THEUNIVERSITYOF CHICAGOMAGAZINE¦ .'-¦ : ';11| p1 [ ¦' ' !; .-. . ¦". j x' ¦¦-.'¦ rI1 •*¦'ty' 'SPRING 1976The Gift of ThoughtWhen you give a gift the thought counts most. When youcelebrate the graduation, the anniversary, or the birthdayof someone you love, you want your gift to symbolizeyour thoughts and your affection. When you memorializea loved one, you want your gift to be worthy of the personyou honor.The most thoughtful gift of all stimulates thought as wellas reflects it.What better gift can there be than the gift of books to agreat research library, where generations of scholars andstudents will treasure and use it thoughtfully?A gift to the University of Chicago Library's Commemorative Book Fund associates both you and the oneyou honor with the work of the University. For every$15.00 you give, a new book in the Library will be identified with a book plate with both your names. If youwish, you may specify the most appropriate type of book.The Library will send copies of the plate and letters ofappreciation to you and to that person — or his family.What more thoughtful gift than a gift like this to theCommemorative Book Fund?Stanley McElderry, DirectorThe University of Chicago Library1100 East 57th StreetChicago, Illinois 60637Dear Mr. McElderry:Please accept this gift to the University of Chicago Library Commemorative Book Fund to honor on the occasionof Please inform : , whose addressnameis I enclose $ for the purchase of commemorative books.Sincerely,nameaddressTHEUNIVERSITYOF CHICAGOMAGAZINEThe University of ChicagoAlumni Association5733 University AvenueChicago, Illinois 60637(312)753-2175Charles W. Boand, id'33, mba'57, PresidentArthur Nayer, Director, Alumni AffairsRuth Halloran, Assistant DirectorKristen Nelson, Program DirectorRegional Offices1888 Century Pk. East, Suite 222Los Angeles, Ca. 90067(213) 277-7727825 Third Avenue, Suite 1030New York, New York 10022(212)935-19771000 Chestnut Street, Apt. 7DSan Francisco, California 94109(415)928-0337735 Fairfax StreetAlexandria, Va. 22314(703) 549-3800 Wilson elected University's ninth president 4The dorms today 8Exile on Grave PeakNorman F. Maclean 14Courage, creativity and the enhancement of lifeSalvatore R. Maddi 20To DarwinMarsha London Poirier 23The Magazine salutes 24The deli is the sannawitchAlbert Madansky and Martin Shubik 26Sour apples from the tree of knowledgeWarner Wick 29WHPK at 30 36Volume LXVIIISpring, 1976 Number 3The University of Chicago Magazine,founded in 1907, is published for alumniand the faculty of the University ofChicago, under the auspices of the Officeof the Vice President for Public Affairs.Letters and editorial contributions arewelcomed.Don Morris, ab'36EditorJennie LightnerEditorial AssistantSecond class postage paid at Chicago,Illinois, and at additional mailing offices.Copyright 1976, The University ofChicago. Published quarterly, Spring,Summer, Fall and Winter. Boand heads Association 37Fowling in the marshes 41Faces: Edward H. Weiss returns to campus to show his works 45Memories of WilderJoan W. SaltzsteinDavid Levine 4734 Quadrangle news 36 Alumni newscover: John Todd Wilson, the University's ninth president.picture credits: Pages 1, 4, 8-13, 37 (right), Myron Davis; Page 7, Jac Stafford; Page14, IngvardEide, USDA, Forest Service; Page 19, K. D. Swan, USDA, Forest Service;Pages 24, 34 (bottom right), 35 (bottom), 36, Mike Shields; Page 29, Gustave Dore;Page 34 (bottom left), Donald J. Bingle; Page 37, Clyde Watkins; Page 38 (left),Koehne Studios; Page 40, Associated Press; Page 41, Nina M. Davies, courtesyOriental Institute; Page 45, Edward H. Weiss; Page 47, caricature by Howard Taylor,Ringmaster.t*«..!¦ "Bom***!Wilson elected University's ninth president'Each president and chancellor has furthered and hasshaped the plan. Each in his way has tested andmodified, however slightly, the boundaries'"I'm a great traditionalist — when there are great traditions."So, in an interview with the two student news media on theQuadrangles, the Maroon and WHPK, said John ToddWilson, who will be inaugurated in March as the ninth president of the University. His cryptic statement appears to meanneither that he is a traditionalist nor that he is not — perhaps agood position for a new president.What historians of the University will write about Mr.Wilson's tenure will depend on the unfolding future. Butsince he has wrought and striven on the Midway for ten of thepast fifteen years, there are already in the record many cluesto what manner of man he is, and to what and how he thinks.John Wilson first came to the University as a specialassistant to President Beadle in 1961. In addition he was appointed professor of education (a title he still holds, alongwith his newly acquired designation as trustee) and taughtLeaders of the University1891-1906 William Rainey Harper1907-1923 Harry Pratt Hudson1923-1925 Ernest De Witt Burton1925-1928 Charles Max Mason1929-1951 Robert Maynard Hutchins1951-1960 Lawrence A. Kimpton1961-1968 George W. Beadle1968-1975 Edward H. Levi graduate courses.In 1963 he returned to the National Science Foundation,where he had previously served from 1952 to 1961, first asprogram director for psychology and then as assistant director of NSF's biological and medical sciences division. In hissecond stint at NSF he was deputy director, during a period ofmajor growth in the foundation's activities. In 1967 NSFhonored him with its first distinguished service award forleadership in the development of the foundation.But the University called again, and in 1968 John Wilsonreturned to the Midway as vice-president and dean of thefaculties.In the following year he added the title of provost, a post inwhich he served as the senior officer of the University underthe president, having in his general purview (1) academic appointments, (2) educational programs and policies, (3)consultation with deans, chairmen, directors and the faculty,and (4) academic budgets. When Mr. Levi retired last year,Mr. Wilson was chosen acting president, and in December,1975, the board of trustees elected him to the presidency.It is doubtless unnecessary to remind alumni that the yearsin which he was provost and acting president the Universitywas dealing with acute financial problems and with theplanning and undertaking of Phase 2 of the $280,000,000Campaign for Chicago now in progress.BackgroundBorn in 1914 in Punxsatawney, Pennsylvania, Mr. Wilsonreceived his A.B. degree with distinction from George Washington University in 1941. His major was psychology and hisminor was philosophy. While at George Washington he wasI 5the Emma K. Carr scholar and served as a teaching assistantin experimental psychology. He was elected to Phi BetaKappa in February, 1941.He then attended the State University of Iowa, where hemajored in psychology and minored in education and servedas a teaching assistant in psychology. After receiving hisM.A. in July, 1942, he was elected to Sigma Xi, the nationalhonorary science fraternity. At Stanford he was a RockefellerFoundation pre-doctoral fellow and a teaching assistant inexperimental psychology on the road to earning his Ph.D. in1948.In the course of his academic training, Mr. Wilson servedas a research assistant for a Civil Aeronautics Administrationproject on the selection of pilot trainees (1938-'39). He wasassistant director of personnel for the Capital TransitCompany in Washington, D. C, in 1941-'42. In November,1942, he was commissioned as an ensign in the naval reserve.He left the service as a lieutenant commander, USNR, in1946. He was attached to the headquarters of the commanderin chief of the U. S. fleet to help in the development andadministration of selection and training programs for radaroperators and combat information center officers.In 1948 Mr. Wilson became assistant executive secretary ofthe American Psychological Association and concurrentlytaught as an assistant professor of psychology at GeorgeWashington University. In 1950 he became head of thepersonnel and training research branch of the Office of NavalResearch. In 1952 he began the first of his two long-termassociations with the National Science Foundation.Clues in the recordWhat, then, can be learned about John Wilson from therecord?It shows, obviously, that he communicates. It also showsthat, although he speaks with tact, he is not hesitant to disagree, and that although he loves and respects the University,he doesn't hold back when he finds something which he feelscalls for criticism.Interviewed by the Chicago Tribune shortly after his designation as president, he explained the University's position onliberal education:Q — Although two-thirds of the university is graduate schools,what about the undergraduates? What is the "liberally educated" undergraduate equipped to do?A — Well, leaving aside the matter of whether a guy can get ajob or not, the value of humanistic learning is that out of it astudent gets a conception of a theory of life, a theory of values.Unless a youngster has some notion of this in growing up, Idon't think he has very good equipment for developing his ownvalue system. Now I find it difficult to imagine anything morepractical than being equipped with such notions and beingequipped with a critical ability to evaluate an idea, to evaluateour political system with another, or one's religion versusanother religion. Whether it helps you get a better job or not is adifferent issue.Interviewed by reporters for the Maroon and WHPK on,among other subjects, some statements by Professor Milton Friedman, of which some student groups had been critical,Mr. Wilson was asked:Q: Mr. Wilson, would it be a fair restatement of your remarks to say that members of the University community in theirprivate actions are not accountable to the University even ifthose actions . . .W: I think you can stop right there.(Q: I want to qualify that . . . )W: Period.Q: Even if those actions reflect on the academic distinction ofthe University?W: I don't see how that is possible. I think everybody shouldbe free to make whatever statements he wishes to make.In his report on "The State of the University" lastNovember, Mr. Wilson commented on the low productivityrecord of the student-faculty committees on academicprograms:. . . Obviously these mechanisms will not work in the absenceof a commitment on the part of both faculty and students. It ismy impression that with few exceptions, the committees arefunctioning at a very low level throughout the University. I urgethat a strong effort be made either to revive the concept or tocreate some ' adequate substitute for it within the academicareas. . . .In the same report Mr. Wilson spoke of efforts to halt whatsome library users have seen as a deterioration in the qualityof life in Regenstein:... To meet the problem of deterioration in the ambience ofRegenstein as a research library, in contrast to its growingpopularity as a social center, a faculty-student committee wasappointed to examine and to make recommendations regardingthe quality of life in Regenstein. The committee has avoidedinquiring into areas that are the responsibility of the LibraryBoard and has concentrated its efforts on how to modifybehavior of both users and staff, ranging from general boor-ishness and incivility to outright vandalism. . . .Turning, again in "The State of the University," toproblems relating to government and the economy, Mr.Wilson made two points:. . . Since private insurance seems unable to meet the needs ofall persons, much effort is now being exerted within the federalgovernment to develop a plan for government-subsidizednational health insurance. The entry of these large organizedthird parties into the medical enterprise introduces not only anew element in the relation between doctor and patient, butproduces fiscal and legal complications of unimagined magnitude, well beyond the experience and the traditional capabilityof universities to handle. . . .. . . There appears from time to time, both in Harper'swritings and in those of successive chief executive officers, acorollary expression emphasizing the smallness of theUniversity, and the smallness of the faculty. Smallness is arelative concept, and an important question before theUniversity is what size faculty, which will meet the highestpossible academic standards, can be sustained with the potentialresources available. With this question in mind, we have beenacutely concerned from time to time during the period of ourbudgetary deficits that we not suffer a potentially more seriousconcomitant— that of an academic deficit. . . .6Let it not be imagined, however, that Mr. Wilson sees onlythe dark side. "The State of the University" reflects love andrespect as well as a perception of real or potential shortcomings:. . .In the past eighteen months the University has lost severalfaculty members whose equal will be hard to match. During thissame period there have been distinguished faculty recruitments,and we have successfully retained faculty who had highlyattractive offers from other leading universities. . . .. . . There remains the question of faculty quality. It is myimpression that as we have experienced restraints on facultysize, we have been achieving higher standards both in new recruitment and in promotions. It has been and continues to beour practice to apply standards that will move the medianquality level upward in all academic units. . . .. . . We have been successful, especially in the HumanitiesDivision, in recruiting young faculty from among the very bestin the country. . . .... In reading the annual reports from the various academicunits, one cannot help but be struck by the intellectual richnessof this University. And it is a richness that is to be foundthroughout the academic areas and of which we all can be justlyproud. . . .Even in his writings as a psychologist Mr. Wilson didn'thold back when he disapproved of new developments in theprofession. In his article on trends in Psychology and theBehavioral Sciences (Pittsburgh: University of PittsburghPress, 1955) he wrote:. . . We are concerned, however, with what we believe to be aconfusion between this sort of "relying upon" social science bythose responsible for effecting social change or control, and"participating in" social science to influence such change orcontrol. It is in respect to "participating in" social science to influence social change that the problems lie, and wherein thereis evidence of a mixed self-image on the part of some psychologists and their social science colleagues. To us, this problem comes into clearest focus within the field of psychology inthe concept of "action research." . . .... In all of the discussion, however, the basic issue ofobjectivity as a fundamental characteristic of science, and thedifference between scientist as scientist, and scientist as social-engineer-in-science seem to have been neglected. . . .A glimpse into the futureSometimes a stance of frankness can produce ironic afterimages. In his interview with WHPK and the Maroon, whilethe presidential selection committee was still deliberating, Mr.Wilson was asked what he thought should be the qualifications of the new president. He said:... I suppose I would say, someone with a high tolerance ofambiguity. [The University is] a place that's slightly controlledchaos, and [a president has] to have an ability to attract someone to take care of the fiscal, budgetary matters — because we'renot quite out of the woods yet — and someone with youth andvigor and a great deal of stamina.As the saying goes, the days are long and many. But he has to Mr. Wilson as he addressed the Alumni Fund board last year.be a person who is acceptable to the Board of Trustees. [Theyhave to] be able to understand each other and get along witheach other. [And he has to] have some feel for what it means tohave the care and feeding of geniuses. . . .As he begins his job of orchestrating "slightly controlledchaos," President Wilson is aware of other eventualitiesbeyond the need for "a high tolerance of ambiguity." He isalso aware that the relationship of a university and itspresident are reciprocal. Addressing the annual faculty dinnergiven by the trustees, he spoke of "the reflected influence ofthe University itself upon each chief executive officer as hetook hold of, and, in turn, was taken hold of, by theUniversity."Within the framework sketched by Harper," he said,"each president and chancellor has furthered and has shapedthe plan. Each in his way has tested and modified, howeverslightly, the boundaries."7"%lfmim-iX*> «. *^**~*/*-3*-iliWoodward Court's lectures have become a University showpiece. Mathematician IzaakWirszup, the resident master (the lower left in inset), has brought to his series such eminentfigures as Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar and Mortimer Adler.In loco societatisTHE DORMS TODAYIn the present academic year the University ingeniouslyincreased its student housing capability 15%. It did this byconverting the venerable Shoreland Hotel, which it hadacquired in 1974 as a real estate investment, to dormitory use.The Shoreland, which many alumni recall as the scene ofmuch social activity of one kind or another, now houses 150undergraduates and 200 graduate students, who live insomewhat less spartan circumstances than is offered in theconventional dormitory room. (The Shoreland Bar, it mightbe noted, is not one of the dormitory's facilities; that once-popular student gathering place is no more, its location is nowoccupied by a beauty parlor.) The campus bus system is available to carry the Shoreland students to and from thequadrangles.The Shoreland is the twenty-seventh unit of theUniversity's house system, which now houses some 2,200unmarried students (another 500 live in International House).In addition, the University maintains more than 1,100apartments for married students.The dormitories thus are now a varied lot, including suchancient structures as Hitchcock and Snell, such middle-agedones as Burton and Judson Courts, such new ones as Woodward Court and Pierce Tower, and such converted units asthe Harper Surf and Shoreland Hotels. Approximately 65%IStudent quarters in the Shoreland Hotel are a little off the beaten path, but they are spacious.of the undergraduates live in Collegehouses. (Urban renewal, as anyoneknows who has visited Hyde Park inrecent years, has brought about the conversion to vacant lots, town houses, etc.,of many of the apartment houses wherein other days students used to live.)Obviously the inclusion in the housingpattern of the new or acquired buildingshas left outside of it some of the famederstwhile dorms — but they do not standidle. The L-shaped Foster-Kelly-Beecher-Green group has been con-In the continuing "First Chair" series at Burton-Judson, featuring first chairmusicians from the Chicago Symphony, timpanist Donald Koss speaks to andperforms for students and other members of the University community. Burton-Judson, which used to abut onthe Maroon baseball diamond, nowneighbors the Laird Bell Law Quadrangle.10Psychologist Salvatore Maddi's office is in Green Hall; sociologist Phillip Hauser's is in Kelly.verted to office space for sociologists,psychologists, and scholars in the languages and literatures of southern Asia.Goodspeed has for many decadeshoused, among others, the RenaissanceSociety and its gallery. Gates and Blakewere adapted to office uses of theCollege. A couple of years ago theCollege took over Harper, Wieboldt andpart of the old Law School building, butthe perennially crowded College had nodifficulty in filling the vacated areas inGates and Blake.And what of dormitory life thesedays?It's different. There was a time whenStudents of southern Asia hold a weeklytea and discussion in Kelly. Human development specialist Erika Fromm 's office is in Green Hall.11Tenor Peter Pears (gesturing) was the honored guest at one of Kenneth Northcott's student open houses at Pierce Hall. Inaddition to being Pierce's resident master, Mr. Northcott (right) is chairman of the Department of Germanic Languages andLiteratures and professor in the College.the dormitory offered, as its nameimplies, a place to sleep, plus, dependingon such circumstances as the acquiescence of roommates and fellow dormdenizens, a place to study. Now thedormitory has been incorporated intoand augments the student's education.The dorms abound with lectures andinformal seminars, musical events, and occasions for discussion with facultymembers and other scholars. (In eachdorm live — in many cases with theirfamilies — faculty and staff members andadvanced graduate students.)The bull session, of course, has notbeen abolished and still exists as an educational entity.The sleeping and studying and eatingPierce Tower rises on the corner ofUniversity Avenue and 55th Street. International House maintains its ownlively and cosmopolitan ambience, overlooking the Midway. Breckinridge Hall came into existencewhen the University took over theformer Elinor Club on the Midway.12(with concomitant opportunities togrouse about dormitory meals) continueas of old, of course, as does thestudent's unslakable desire to get awayfrom the campus now and then to seewhat the city holds in store. But thedorm today offers a vastly more variedfare, for the brain as well as thestomach, than it used to.In short, the educational institution,which for most of a century has laboredunder its responsibility of serving in locoparentis, is now moving toward acting —because of the "knowledge explosion,"the various sorts of liberation, the complexity of the city and of the civilization— in loco societatis.At right, a chess kibitzer at a Hitchcock-Snell open house is forcibly frustrated.Below, Peter Dembowski, residentmaster of the dorm (now designated anational historic landmark) deadpans asstudents enjoy a laugh. Mr. Dembowskiis professor in the Department ofRomance Languages and Literaturesand the College.Exile on Grave Peak"... Eternity went on in windrows of Bitterroot Mountains and summer snow. "Norman F. MacleanI can't give you any very clear reason why I disliked the cookso much. I was honest enough with myself to say that I mightbe jealous of him. Although I was only seventeen, this was mythird summer in the Forest Service, two of them working forBill, and he had started to show me how to pack, and inreturn I would do him favors like coming back to camp in themorning to pack out lunch to the crew. I couldn't figure howthis cook had moved into first place. Everything he said ordid was just perfect, as far as Bill was concerned. Besides, Ididn't like his looks — he looked like a bluejay, cocky, with hishead on a slant and a tuft of hair on top of it. A bluejay withlow canvas shoes. Mostly, though, I didn't need reasons todislike him. When you get older, you become rational moreor less, but when you are young you know. I knew this cookwas a forty-cent piece.It wasn't helping my headache either to think of the rangerbeing sore at me. I said to myself, "Take it easy, and keepyour big mouth shut. It's nothing and it will blow over."Then I repeated to myself, "Keep your big mouth shut," butI knew I wouldn't. I had formed principles to compensate forhaving started work when I was fifteen. I had missed a lot, Iknew — the swimming hole, summer girls, and a game calledtennis which was played in white flannels with cuffs. I wouldsay to myself, "You decided to go into the woods, so the leastyou can do is be tough." I hadn't felt this way at fifteen whenI first worked for Bill, but that was the way I felt now atseventeen. Even though Bill was my model and an artist —maybe because he was — at seventeen something in me washalf-looking for trouble with him.Before noon who should come along but the cook packingour lunch. He said to me, "The ranger wants you to comeback to camp after you eat."When I got back to camp, Bill was in the cabin we used as a warehouse, building the packs for the string that was going toHamilton soon. I didn't ask him why he had sent for me andhe didn't say. I just started helping him build and balance thepacks, and tried to keep my mind on what I was doing, partlybecause building packs is never a mechanical job. Not evenwhen you're packing the simplest stuff like tin cans, which gointo boxes called "panyards," made of rawhide, wood, orcanvas, that are hung on the prongs of the saddle. You can'tforget to wrap each can in toilet paper, or the labels on thecans will rub off and you won't be able to tell peaches frompeas. And the heaviest cans have to go to the bottom, or thepack will shift. Then each of the two side packs has to weighthe same and together (with the top pack) they shouldn'tweigh more than 175 pounds for a horse or 225 for a mule—at least, those were the Forest Service regulations then, butThe accompanying narrative is excerpted from A River RunsThrough It and Other Stories, a newly published book byNorman Maclean (p1id'40), professor emeritus of English andthe William Rainey Harper professor emeritus in the College.A River Runs Through It {Chicago: University of ChicagoPress, 1976) is the first work of original fiction ever to bepublished by the Press. This excerpt is from the story, "USFS1919: the Ranger, the Cook, and a Hole in the Sky, " whichrecalls vividly the author's experiences when, at 17, heworked for the U.S. Forest Service and first saw his lifechange for a time into a story as if patterned by art. Thricehonored for excellence in undergraduate teaching, Mr.Maclean most recently appeared in the magazine with "ThisQuarter I Am Taking McKeon" {January /February, 1974),and "Billiards Is a Good Game," a recollection of A. A.Michelson, in the summer, 1975, issue.14they were twenty-five pounds too heavy if the animals weren'tto be bone heaps by the middle of the summer. I don't carewho you are, I'll bet you that without a scale you can't buildtwo packs weighing the same and together weighing 150pounds or 200 pounds when a top pack has been added.After we had packed for a while, I forgot to wonder whythe ranger had sent for me. Maybe it was just to help him boxthings up. Then, while we were working with our heads bent,I heard the cook come by jingling the knives and forks thecrew had used for lunch.Still working on a pack, I heard myself say, "I don't likethat son of a bitch."Bill lifted a pack and put it down. Inside I heard myselfsay, "Keep your big mouth shut." Outside, I heard myselfadd, "Some day I am going to punch the piss out of him."Bill stood up and said, "Not in this district you won't." Helooked at me for a long time, and I looked back still crouchedover my pack. I figured that at this moment crouching was agood position. Finally, we both went back to work.Bending and lifting, he began to tell me about how themorning had gone. "The lookout on Grave Peak quit thismorning." "Yeah?" I said. "Yeah," the ranger said. "Hecame off that mountain in about three jumps."It was nearly twelve miles to the top of the peak."Do you know what he said to me?" he asked. "No," Isaid. I wasn't happy about how this was going to end. "Thelookout said, 'Give me my time. This is too tough a job forme, fighting fire in the day and sleeping with rattlesnakes atnight.' " After lifting the pack again for weight, he went on,"Seems that he put his hand on the bed to pull back theblanket and he felt something shaped like a fire hose. Do youbelieve it?"At Bear Creek, where I first worked for Bill, there had beena lot of rattlers on those bare mountainsides. On a steepsidehill trail, the up side can be as high as your hand, so youcould almost brush those rattlesnakes as you swung along.And, being cold-blooded, they could be attracted to thewarmth of a bed at night. But I hadn't seen a rattlesnake thissummer in Elk Summit, although it was the adjoining district."No, I don't believe it," I said. "Why not?" he asked."It's too high up there for rattlesnakes," I said. "Are yousure?" he asked, and I told him I wasn't sure but I thoughtso. Still working with the packs he said, "Why don't you goup on the lookout for a couple of weeks and find out?"I didn't ask him when; I knew he meant now. I lifted thetwo packs until I thought they were balanced, and thenstarted for the door. He added, "If you spot any fires, callthem in. And, if there's a big rain or snow, close up camp andcome back to the station."I knew it would be dark before I got to Grave Peak, so Iasked the cook to make me a sandwich. I had a big bluebandanna handkerchief, and I put the sandwich in thehandkerchief and tied the handkerchief to my belt in themiddle of my back. I picked up my razor, toothbrush, andcomb, and my favorite ax and Carborundum stone. Then Istrapped on my .32-20 and started up the high trail. I knew Ihad been sent into exile. It was twelve miles and all up, but I never stopped to rest oreat the sandwich. Bill seemed to be watching all the time. Bywalking hard I kept even with daylight until near the end.Then darkness passed over me from below — just the dazzlingpeak above told me where I was going.For the first few days, I was too tired to think about mytroubles. I was still half-sick from the dynamite and I stilldragged from that big fire we had fought in late July, so Ispent most of my time just looking the place over and gettingthings squared away.Modern lookouts live on top of their peaks in what arecalled "birdcages" — glass houses on towers with lightningrods twisted around them so that the lookouts are not afraidof lightning striking them, and for twenty-four hours a daycan remain on the towers to watch for lightning to strike andsmoke to appear. This, of course, is the way it should be, butin 1919 birdcages, as far as we knew, were only for birds. Wewatched from the open peak and lived in a tent in a basinclose to the peak where usually there was a spring of water.From my camp to the lookout was a good half-hour climb,and I spent about twelve hours a day watching mountains.Near the top there were few trees and nearly all of them hadbeen struck by lightning. It had gone around them, like asnake of fire. But I was to discover that, on a high mountain,lightning seems to start somewhat below you and very closeby, seemingly striking upward and outward. Once it was toknock me down, toss branches over me and leave me sick.The basin where my tent was pitched was covered withchunks of cliff that had toppled from above. I did not see arattlesnake, but I shared the basin with a grizzly bear whooccasionally came along flipping over fallen pieces of disintegrated cliff as he looked for disproportionately smallgrubs. When I saw him coming, I climbed the highest rockand tried to figure out how many hundreds of grubs he had toeat for a square meal. When he saw me, he made noises in hismouth as if he were shifting his false teeth. In a thicket on topof a jackpine, I found the skeleton of a deer. Your guess is asgood as mine. Mine is that the snow in the high basin wasdeep enough to cover the trees, and the deer was crossing thecrust and broke through or was killed and eventually the snowmelted. There was a tear in my tent so when it rained I couldkeep either my food or my bed dry, but not both.Since this was not my first hitch as a lookout, I knew whatto watch for — a little cloud coming up a big mountain,usually in the late afternoon when the dews had long driedand the winds were at their height. And usually it detacheditself from the mountain and went on up into the sky and became just a little cloud. Once in a while it would disappear onthe mountain, and then you didn't know what you had seen —probably a cloud but maybe a puff of smoke and the windhad changed and you couldn't see it now, so you marked it onyour map to watch for several days. In a lightning storm youmarked every strike to watch, and sometimes it was a weeklater before one of them became a little cloud again and thengot bigger and began to boil.When a cloud began to boil, then it wasn't a cloud,1 «especially if it reflected red on the bottom. It could mean fireeven when the cloud was two or three miles down the canyonfrom where it was first seen, because, if there were no wind,smoke could drift a long way behind a ridge before risingagain where it would show. So that's the way a fire first looksto a lookout: something — you don't know what — usually inlate afternoon, that may go away and not come again and, ifit comes back and is smoke, it may be quite a long way fromthe fire.A possible late-afternoon cloud has no resemblance to whata fire looks like if it gets out of control, and it was often impossible in those early years to get men quickly on a fire whenit was in the back country where there were no roads andsometimes not even trails, and of course long before therewere planes stationed in Missoula ready to drop chemicalsand smoke jumpers.Instead, when a fire got out of control the Forest Servicehired a hundred or so bindle stiffs off the streets of Butte orSpokane at thirty cents an hour (forty-five cents for strawbosses), shipped them to some rail station near the end of abranch line, and walked them the final thirty-five or fortymiles over "the wall." By the time they reached the fire, ithad spread all over the map, and had jumped into the crownsof trees, and for a lot of years a prospective ranger taking hisexam had said the last word on crown fires. Even by my timehe was a legend. When asked on his examination, "What doyou do when a fire crowns?" he had answered, "Get out ofthe way and pray like hell for rain."Our big fire that summer had been big enough so that I wasstill tired and my eyes still ached from smoke and no sleep,and big enough so that for years it crowned in my dreams, butit wasn't in the class of those fires of 1910 that burned out theCoeur d'Alene and great pieces of the Bitterroot. The smokefrom those fires drifted seven hundred miles to Denver, andin my home town of Missoula the street lights had to beturned on in the middle of the afternoon, and curled ashesbrushed softly against the lamps as if snow were fallingheavily in the heat of August. Of course, no other fires onrecord were as big as those of 1910, but the one of 1919 wasthe biggest I was ever on.It came in a rage and a crown to the top of the ridge. Youmay know, when a fire gets big enough it generates its ownwind. The heat from the fire lightens the air, which rises in thesky, and the cooler air from above swoops down to replace it,and soon a great circular storm enrages the fire and the sky isa volcanic eruption of burning cones and branches descendingin streamers of flames. The fire stands on the ridge, roaringfor hell to arrive as reinforcement. While you are trying topeer through it to see the inferno on its way, suddenly somebody yells, "God, look behind. The son of a bitch hasjumped the gulch." One hundred and eighty degrees fromwhere you have been looking for the inferno and half-way upthe opposite ravine a small smoke is growing big where one ofthose burning cones or branches dropped out of the sky andtrapped you with a fire in your rear. Then what do you do?Of course, the men who had been brought in from Butte orSpokane were dead tired and barefoot long before they reached the fire. At the hiring hall in Butte and Spokane eachhad to have a good pair of boots and a jacket to be employed,so they took turns in the alley changing the one good pair theyhad. Now all but one of them had marched across the Bitter-root wall in poor street shoes, and, not being able to keepahead of the pack train, they ate twenty-eight miles of dust.They were bums off the street, miners out of the holes forthe summer with the hope of avoiding tuberculosis, winos,and Industrial Workers of the World, who had been thick inButte and Spokane during World War I. Since it was only thesummer after the war, we ordinary working stiffs were stillpretty suspicious of IWWs. Those of us who belonged to theregular crew (that is, who were paid sixty dollars a monthinstead of thirty cents an hour) said that IWW meant "IWon't Work," and we were also sure that they were happy tosee our country burn.For whatever reason, we had to spend as much timepatrolling them as we did the fire. First we had to get them tothe top of the opposite ridge before the new fire arrived there,and a lot of them only wanted to lie down and go to sleep withthe great fire coming from behind. It was the first time I eversaw that sometimes death has no meaning to men if they canlie down and sleep. We kicked them up the hill, while theybegged to be left lying where they were, and we beat the newfire to the top. Then we made a "fire trench," just a scrapingtwo or three feet wide to remove anything that would burn,like dry needles or duff. In front of the fire trench we builtpiles of dry twigs and then we waited for the wind to turn andblow back toward the new fire coming up the side of theravine. We waited until the foreman gave us the signal beforewe lit the piles of twigs and sent fires burning back into themain one. This is known as "backfiring" and for once itworked, although if the wind had shifted again to its originaldirection, all we would have done was give the fire a headstart on us.We did not sleep for three days. Some of us had to carrydrinking water in warm canvas sacks up a thousand-footridge. The rest of us slowly extended the fire trench down thesides of the fire. The bottom of it we let go for a while — a firedoesn't go very far or fast downhill.We had done a good job in heading off the fire. What youdo in the first couple of hours after you hit a fire is whatcounts, and if it isn't right you had better take that youngranger's advice and give yourself over to prayer. Bill and theman he had made fire foreman had both experience and gift,and it takes gift as well as having been there before to knowwhere to hit a fire hard enough to turn it in its tracks. Whenit's less than 1 10 degrees and nothing is about to burn you todeath or roar at you and your lungs will still breathe the heatand your eyes aren't closed with smoke, it's easy to state thesimple principles of a science, if that's what it is. All you'retrying to do is to force the fire into some opening at the top ofthe ridge that's covered with shale and rocks or, if suchopenings don't abound in your vicinity, to force it into a thinstand of alpine pine or something that doesn't burn very fast.But with the inferno having arrived and the smoke so thickyou can see only two or three men ahead of you, it's gift and16guts, not science, that tells you where the head of the fire is,and where an open ridge is that can't be seen, and where andwhen the wind will turn and whether your men have what ittakes to stand and wait. Don't forget this last point when youplace your men — it isn't just horses that panic when the barnburns.But we were placed right and either we had guts or we weretoo sick to care. Anyway, we stood and the wind stayed withus and we crowded the big fire with our backfires and turnedit into the timber line.But every time we got the fire under control, somethingstrange would happen — the fire would jump our fire-trench,usually at some fairly ordinary place, so we became sure thatIWWs were rolling burning logs over the trench and startingthe fire off again. If they were, it was probably just to keeptheir jobs going, but that wasn't what we thought, andanyway it didn't matter much what we thought — the fire keptjumping the line everywhere until I and the red-headed kidwere picked to patrol the fire. The fire foreman told us tocarry revolvers.That's all we were told. I still ask myself why the twoyoungest in the outfit were given this assignment. Did theythink we were so young that we would make a big show ofourselves but would freeze in the clutch and wouldn't shoot?Or did they think we were so young we were crazy enough toshoot almost sight unseen? Or did they think that nobody,especially the IWWs, could answer these questions? Anywaywe patrolled miles and miles through burning branches andfeathered ashes so light they rose ahead of us as weapproached. We didn't look for trouble and we didn't findany. Also, we didn't pray, but finally the rains came. Theother kid being red-headed, I think he would have shot. Thatwouldn't have left me much choice.I don't suppose Bill would have sent me up to the lookout ifhe knew how much I needed a couple of days of rest, athought that gave me a good deal of pleasure. Still being soreat him, I reported by telephone to the ranger station thefewest number of times required — three times a day. Thetelephone, in a coffin-shaped box, was nailed to the tent poleand had a crank on it. Two longs rang the ranger station, andone long and a short was my call, but nobody called me fromthe station. There was one woman on a distant lookout andher call was two longs and a short, and I am sure the rest of uslookouts often stood poised ready to ring two longs and ashort, but never did. Instead we looked at her mountain andthought it looked different from other mountains, and wetook off our telephone receivers and listened to her voicewhen it was her turn to report to the station. She was marriedand talked every night to her husband in Kooskia, but we didnot listen to avoid feeling sorry for ourselves.After a few days of resting and not mending the tent, Istarted to feel tough again. I knew I had been sent up here aspunishment. I was expected to sit still and watch mountainsand long for company and something to do, like playingcribbage, I suppose. I was going to have to watch mountainsfor sure, that was my job, but I would not be without com pany. I already knew that mountains live and move. Long agowhen I had had a child sickness and nobody could tell what itwas or how to treat it, my mother put me outside in a bed withmosquito netting over it, and I lay there watching mountainsuntil they made me well. I knew that, when needed,mountains would move for me.About the same time, I began to have another feeling,although one related to the feeling that I wasn't going to letBill punish me by making me watch mountains. Somewherealong here I first became conscious of the feeling I talkedabout earlier — the feeling that comes when you first noticeyour life turning into a story. I began to sense the differencebetween what I would feel if I were just nearing the end of asummer's work or were just beginning a story. If what werecoming was going to be like life as it had been, a summer'sjob would be over soon and I would go home and tell my palsabout the big fire and packing my .32-20 on the fire line andthe dynamite. Looking down from Grave Peak, though, I wasno longer sure that the big fire was of any importance in whatwas starting to happen to me. It was becoming more important that I didn't like the damn cook, who was nobody, noteven a good or bad cook, and could do nothing well exceptshuffle cards. Faintly but nevertheless truly I was becomingpart of a plot and being made the opponent of my hero, BillBell, in fact, mysteriously making myself his opponent. Thecook began to look like the mysterious bad guy; even I became mysterious to myself — I was going to show a ranger anda cook that I couldn't be defeated by being made to watchmountains, which were childhood friends of mine.It doesn't take much in the way of body and mind to be alookout. It's mostly soul. It is surprising how much our soulsare alike, at least in the presence of mountains. For all of us,mountains turn into images after a short time and the imagesturn true. Gold-tossed waves change into the purple backs ofmonsters, and so forth. Always something out of the movingdeep, and nearly always oceanic. Never a lake, never the sky.But no matter what images I began with, when I watched longenough the mountains turned into dreams, and still do, and itworks the other way around — often, waking from dreams, Iknow I have been in the mountains, and I know they havebeen moving — sometimes advancing threateningly, sometimes creeping hesitantly, sometimes receding endlessly. Bothmountains and dreams.In the late afternoon, of course, the mountains meant allbusiness for the lookouts. The big winds were veering fromthe valleys toward the peaks, and smoke from little fires thathad been secretly burning for several days might show up forthe first time. New fires sprang out of thunder before itsounded. By three-thirty or four, the lightning would beflexing itself on the distant ridges like a fancy prizefighter,skipping sideways, ducking, showing off but not hitting anything. By four-thirty or five, it was another game. You couldfeel the difference in the air that had become hard to breathe.The lightning now came walking into you, delivering shortsmashing punches. With an alidade, you marked a line on themap toward where it struck and started counting, "Thousand-one, thousand-two," and so on, putting in the"thousand" to slow your count to a second each time. If thethunder reached you at "thousand-five," you figured thelightning had struck about a mile away. The punches becameshorter and the count closer and you knew you were going totake punishment. Then the lightning and thunder strucktogether. There was no count.But what I remember best is crawling out of the tent onsummer nights when on high mountains autumn is always approaching. To a boy, it is something new and beautiful to pissamong the stars. Not under the stars but among them. Evenat night great winds seem always to blow on great mountains,and tops of trees bend, but, as the boy stands there withnothing to do but to watch, seemingly the sky itself bends andthe stars blow down through the trees until the Milky Way becomes lost in some distant forest. As the cosmos brushes bythe boy and disappears among the trees, the sky is continuallyreplenished with stars. There would be stars enough to brushby him all night, but by now the boy is getting cold.Then the shivering organic speck of steam itself disappears.By figuring backward, I knew it was the twenty-fifth ofAugust when an unusually hot electrical storm crashed intothe peak and was followed by an unusually high wind. Thewind kept up all night and the next day, and I tightened all theropes on my tent. Cold rode in with the wind. The next nightafter I went to bed it began to snow. It was August 27, and thestuff was damp and heavy and came down by the pound.Most of it went through the tear in my tent but there wasenough left over so that by morning you could track elk in thesnow.I didn't think much of the immediate prospects of buildinga fire and cooking breakfast, so first I climbed to the top ofthe peak. When I looked, I knew I might never again see somuch of the earth so beautiful, the beautiful being somethingyou know added to something you see, in a whole that is different from the sum of its parts. What I saw might have beenjust another winter scene, although an impressive one. Butwhat I knew was that the earth underneath was alive and thatby tomorrow, certainly by the day after, it would be all greenagain. So what I saw because of what I knew was a kind ofdeath with the marvelous promise of less than a three-dayresurrection. From where I stood to the Bitterroot wall, whichcould have been the end of the world, was all windrows ofmomentary white. Beyond the wall, it seemed likely, eternitywent on in windrows of Bitterroot Mountains and summersnow.Even before I got back to camp it had begun to melt.Hundreds of shrubs had been bent over like set snares, andnow they sprang up in the air throwing small puffs of white asif hundreds of snowshoe rabbits were being caught at thesame instant.While I was making breakfast, I heard the tick tock of aclock repeating, "It's time to quit; it's time to quit." I said tomyself, "You fought a big fire and packed a big gun," and Isaid, "You slit waxy sticks of dynamite and stuck detonationcaps in them and jumped back to watch them sizzle," andthen I said, "You helped Bill pack and you watched mountains by yourself. That's a summer's work. Get your time and quit." I said these things several times to impress them onmyself. I knew, in addition, that the fire season was over; infact, the last thing the ranger had told me was to come in if itsnowed. So I rang two longs for the ranger station; I rang twolongs until I almost pulled the crank off the telephone, but inmy heart I knew that the storm had probably blown twentytrees across the line between the peak and the station. Finally,I told myself to stay there until tomorrow when most of thesnow would be gone and then to walk to the station and getmy time and start over the hill to Hamilton.What I neglected to tell myself is that it is almost impossibleto quit a ranger who is sore because you do not like his cook,or to quit a story once you have become a character in it.The rest of the day I straightened up the camp, finallymended the tent, and listened to the tick tock get louder. I putthe boxes of tin cans in trees where the grizzly bear couldn'tget them. I had seen him split them open with one snap to acan.It was nearly ten o'clock the next morning before I startedfor the ranger station. There was no use starting until the sunhad done some more melting. Besides, I had decided to takealong the tree-climbing outfit with the faint hope that maybethe storm had blown only two or three trees across the telephone line, so in addition to my ax and my own little oddsand ends, I was walking bow-legged with climbing spurs andclimbing belt and was carrying insulators and number ninetelephone wire. I doubt if I had dropped more than athousand feet of altitude before I was out of the snow. Also,by then I had chopped two trees that had fallen across the lineand had made one splice in the wire. I should have knownfrom the count that I would never clean out twelve miles oftelephone line in a day, but now that I was going to quit I developed a pious feeling, wishing to end in the act of conscientiously performing my duty, so I kept climbing spurs on andfollowed the telephone right-of-way, watching the line dipfrom tree to tree.When you are following line this way you lose all sense ofthe earth, and all that exists is this extended pencil line in youreye. I wouldn't have seen a rattlesnake unless he had wingsand was flying south for the winter. As far as I wasconcerned, there were no rattlesnakes in Elk Summit district,and, if there were any, they would be holed up because it waslate in the season and had just snowed. You could haveexamined my thoughts clear to the bottom of the heap andnever found a snake track.I don't need to tell you how a rattlesnake sounds — youcan't mistake one. Sometimes you can think that a big wingedgrasshopper is a rattlesnake, but you can never think that arattlesnake is anything else. I stayed in the air long enough toobserve him streaking for the brush, an ugly bastard, short,not like a plains rattler, and much thicker behind his head.I don't know how far I jumped, but I was mad when I lit—mad at myself for jumping so high. I took off my climbingspurs, picked up my ax, and started into the brush after him. Iremembered about the crazy sheepherder in the valley whohad been bitten that summer by a rattler and, instead of18taking it easy and caring for the bite, had chased the rattleruntil he killed him — and himself. I also remembered the crewtalking about it and saying that, even for a sheepherder, hemust have been crazy. I must have been crazier, because afterremembering I went into the brush after him. I went in toofast and couldn't find him.We talk nowadays about a "happening," which is a goodterm to describe the next section of my life. In my mind itdidn't occur successively and can't be separated: the snakewas coiled about four feet in front of me I stuck the ax downbetween him and me he hit the ax handle the ax handle ranglike a bell that had been struck and there was no punctuationbetween any of this. Then time started again because it wasafter this happening that I felt my hands sting from holdingthe ax handle the way your hands sting when you are a kidholding a baseball bat and not paying any attention andanother kid with a bat comes sneaking up and hits your batwith his.The snake lay there as if he had never left his coil. Hewhirred and watched. He just barely left the next move up tome, and I made it fast. I almost set a record for a standingbackward jump. It was getting so that I was doing most of mythinking in the air. I decided if I got to the ground again that Iwould try to take some of the sting out of my hands bychopping a few more fallen trees but instead when I lit I stoodfrozen trying to picture the snake as he struck because part ofthe picture was missing. All I could recall was about a footand a half of his tail end lying on the ground. His head and allhis upper part weren't in the picture. Where they should havebeen was just a vertical glaze. As I backed off farther, I cameto the conclusion that about a foot and a half of him stayedon the ground as a platform to strike from and what struckwas too fast to see. The bastard still whirred, so I backed offeven farther before I strapped on my climbing spurs. Thistime when I started to follow the line, I kept one eye and agood part of another on where I was putting my feet.If you have ever strung much wire, you know there is animportant difference between the climbers used on telephonepoles and on trees. Tree spurs are about two inches longer,because when you are climbing trees your spurs first have topenetrate the bark before they can start getting any hold inthe wood, which is all fine and dandy as long as the trees havebark. But pretty soon the line crossed an old fire burn, maybeone of those 1910 burns, and the only trees standing were longdead and had no bark on them — and were as hard as ebony.I could get only about half an inch of spur in them and so Irocked around on the tips of my spurs and prayed the halfinch would hold. The higher I climbed these petrified trees,the more I prayed. Before long, the line crossed a gulch 250yards or more wide, and it was natural but tough luck that theline on one side of the gulch was down. A span of 250 yardsof number nine line is a hell of a lot of weight for a dead treeto hold up in a storm, and one of the trees, rotted at the roots,had come down. I chopped out the line that had got woundaround the tree when it fell and I spliced the line and added afew feet to it and picked a new tree to hang it on. Then I almost left the line lying there andstarted for the ranger station, because I didn't want to climb a deadtree while carrying that weight ofline, but whenever I started to duckout like that the ranger was sure tobe watching. So I put the wire overmy climbing belt and the beltaround the tree, and started up withmy rear end sticking straight out topunch as much spur into that calcified tree as possible. You've seenlinemen at work and know it's a job for rear ends that stickout and you should know why, even if you've never hadclimbers on. And when you're hanging line on trees instead ofpoles, you have an extra hazard to overcome — you have tolean even farther back on your rear end and swing a little axto chop off the limbs as you go up, because your belt isaround that tree and it has to go up if you are. Also going upwith you are at least 250 yards of number nine wire, gettingheavier and tauter every time you stick half an inch of spurinto this totem pole of Carborundum. Below on the tree arethe sharp stubs of branches you have chopped.Less than half way up, the line had become so taut it wouldhave pulled me out of the tree if I hadn't been strapped to itby the belt. The half inch of spur became less and less. Then Iheard the splinter. Maybe I would have felt better if I had hadno belt and the wire had just flipped me over the cliff into thegulch. Anyway, with my spurs torn out of the totem pole Icame down about ten or twelve feet, and then my belt caughton something, and I dangled there and smelled smoke fromthe front of my shirt, my belly having passed over ten feet ofthe snag ends of chopped branches. I worked the belt looseand fell ten or twelve feet more, and so on. I never could pushfar enough away from the tree to jab my spurs into it again,and when I finally reached the ground I felt as if an Indianhad started a fire by rubbing two sticks together, using me forone of the sticks.I was afraid to look at my lower quarters to see what wasstill with me. Instead, I studied the snags of those branches tosee which of my private parts were to hang there forever andslowly turn to stone. Finally, I could tell by the total distribution of pain that all of me was still on the same nervoussystem.I was suddenly destitute of piety, and knew that I had doneall the telephone repair work that I was going to do that day. Itried to tie my outfit into one pack, but all I was thinkingabout was how thick that mountain rattler was behind hishead. And how warm I was in front.It was downhill to the ranger station, and I arrived therelate in the afternoon, still not altogether cooled off. As I expected, Bill was in the warehouse, and he didn't look up whenI came in. He said, "Why did you leave the peak?" He knewdamn well why I came in— he had told me to come in if itsnowed. I said, "There are rattlers up there." He grinned andseemed pleased with himself and the snake. I didn't mentionanything about tree climbing, although the front of my shirtwas torn.Developmental value of fear of deathCourage, creativity and enhancement of lifeSalvatore R. MaddiMy purpose is to offer a conceptualization concerning howand why the confrontation with death spurs the developmentin some persons of a positive philosophy of life, which thenlends meaning and direction to their future activities.I will also show how the presence of such a positive philosophy of life leads to creative endeavor.But in some persons confrontations with death arrest,rather than spur, development, resulting in dread and self-protection, a denial of finitude, and a negative philosophy oflife. How and why this creativity-inhibiting phenomenonoccurs must also be conceptualized.In discussing these matters, I will be elaborating and extending the existential theory of personality I have beenworking on for the last few years. Existential theorizing —my own and that of others — has suffered from an absence ofspecificity concerning development and individual differences. The fear of death is not only a topic of obviousimportance; discussion of it will also provide an opportunityto pin down further the existential approach to personality.My statements will be based on relevant findings already inthe literature and on my own experience of clients as apsychotherapist.Early development of a philosophy of lifeLet me start by indicating in a general way what I mean bya philosophy of life. I am referring to an explicit and coherentset of beliefs defining oneself, the human species, society, andtheir interrelationships. This set of beliefs incorporates whatare commonly called expectations, preferences, and values.Once formed, the beliefs have an organizing and directingeffect upon behavior.But one's philosophy may also change as a function ofexperiences. Some persons never develop any explicit andcoherent philosophy of life. Others adopt the conventionalThis article by Mr. Maddi, professor in the Department ofBehavioral Sciences (Human Development), was presented aspart of a symposium on "Fear of Death and Creativity" atthe American Psycological Association's Chicago conventionlast year. His previous appearances in these pages were with"Existential Sickness and Health" (July /October, 1971) and"Creativity Is Strenuous {September /October, 1973). beliefs they are taught in childhood. Still others transcendthese conventions and emerge with a differentiated,personally relevant philosophy. (Another way in whichphilosophies can differ is whether they are positive ornegative.)Most personality theorists who recognize the utility for theperson of developing a philosophy of life have regarded thisphenomenon as occurring in middle or late adulthood. ErikErikson, for example, considers ego integrity versus despairto be the last of the eight ages of development. And GordonAllport, though less explicit regarding the age span involved,suggests that philosophy of life is that last of the dimensionsof maturity to develop.It is my view that philosophy of life can develop early, andthat its value is enhanced if it does so. Whereas Erikson andAllport emphasize looking backward with the wisdom ofhindsight, I emphasize looking forward with a guide to futureexperience.It is easy to understand why many theorists relegate considerations of life's meaning to the waning years, because it isat that time that death looms large. The person's failingphysical and mental powers, the encroachments of diseaseand decrepitude, and the death of significant others— allunderscore the approach of his own death. Later life iscertainly a time for deciding what life is all about, if one hasnot already done so.But, through active contemplation of death earlier in life,one could find the challenge for developing a philosophy oflife that would serve as a guide for the future.Defining the confrontation with deathJust what constitutes a confrontation with death? Theclearest instance of this takes place when there is seriousillness, accident, or attack, and the mental experience is fear.Often the fear is of physical pain. But just as commonly, tojudge from interview data reported by, for example, Elizabeth Kiibler-Ross, the experience is the existential fear of lossof control, and meaninglessness.But extreme events such as illness and attack are infrequentand sometimes regrettably terminal. As such, their developmental value is necessarily limited. The contemplation of thepossibility of illness or attack can have some developmentaleffect, but if there is not actuality to back up contemplation,the act of imagination necessary to produce a sufficiently20vivid experience is too enormous for most persons.Fortunately there are other frequent events in life which,though milder than illness and attack, nonetheless constituteconfrontations with death, if properly understood. It is thesemilder events that can have developmental value early in life.A small confrontation with death occurs whenever something ends that you did not want to end (e.g., someone stopsloving you while you still love them), or whenever you areoverwhelmed by the insufficiency of time and energy to do allthat you sincerely wish to do (e.g., an academic trying toresearch, write, teach, and be an active member of acommunity and family), or whenever events are monotonous(e.g., some valued goal requires instrumental behavior morerepetitive than you would normally tolerate).The mental experience in these events is fear — mild, thoughpresent, for those who wish to be sensitive to it — that thingsare beyond one's control and do not necessarily conform toone's wishes.Another small confrontation with death that is importantoccurs whenever your conventional values are contradicted byevents. This happens when virtue is not rewarded (e.g., avalued colleague who has made a sincere commitment toteaching does not receive tenure), when a situation turns outnot to be what it seemed (e.g., it becomes apparent that youare loved for your money, not your personality), and whenyour ideals are not embodied in persons or events importantto you (e.g., a President acts in an un-American fashion). Themental experience involved is the fear that life ismeaningless.It is important to recognize that unwanted endings, insufficiency of time and energy, monotony, and disproved ideals,though milder than the direct physical threat of death, aresimilar to it in demonstrating the real fact of our limitedcontrol over events, and the naivete of the conventionalvalues we all are educated to and fall into so easily. In this,such events are legitimate reminders of physical death becausethey directly threaten psychological death, that chronic stateof meaninglessness and powerlessness that I have elsewherecalled existential sickness.Small confrontations with death are common enough thateach person must reach some sort of conclusion about his lifeas a result of experiencing them. Such conclusions are thestuff of philosophies of life.In the existential view, it is believed that frequent experience of small (and for that matter actual) threats of death canhave positive developmental value. This may seem difficult tocomprehend because the negative developmental value is soobvious. For development to be adversely effected, all wehave to do is overgeneralize pessimistically. We do this byconcluding that we are completely powerless when eventsdisclose our limited control, and that life is completelymeaningless when events show our conventional values to benaive. Then we need only to succumb to dread and self-protection when events remind us of the imminence of actualphysical death, and the damage is complete.If we do this, we may end with no coherent philosophy oflife, retreating into a denial of finitude and clinging rigidly to a conventional way of life that we dare not reflect upon. Orwe will develop a negative philosophy of life, reveling in theconclusion that life is meaningless and we powerless, andparading our depression as evidence of sophistication. But wewill betray our inconsistency and inauthenticity by takinggood care of ourselves anyway, and by not having to commitsuicide, because our supposed wisdom somehow justifies ourexistence even though we are psychological zombies. Thesenegative reactions to the confrontation with death will arrestdevelopment.But the experience of these same events, the sense of limitedcontrol and the naivete of conventional values, can be transformed into something with positive developmental value, ifwe will only be careful not to overgeneralize. Recognition thatphysical death may be imminent can alert us to theimportance of using every moment to the fullest extent in pursuing what is personally important. Recognition that our timeand energy are insufficient can lead us to think hierarchically,to determine the relative importance of various things thatcould be done, and to spend the greatest time and effort onthose things highest in the hierarchy. Recognition that conventional values are naive can lead us to imagination indeveloping personally relevant, differentiated values.These positive reactions to confrontations with death willhave the effect of spurring development. The person will perceive life as challenging, and find his satisfaction in beingequal to the task, rather than bemoaning that there is no easycomfort. The person will be continuously striving to determine what is within his control, and to develop a clearer andmore precise sense of what is important to him. He will havean ever more individualistic, differentiated ethic, rather thanpassively deploring the inappropriateness of all values merelybecause conventional ones are naive. And he will experiencethe vivid excitement of using his capabilities to the fullest inpursuing personally meaningful goals, rather than beingbogged down in dread, insecurity, and incessant precautions.In short, he will have a personally relevant, positivephilosophy of life.Not only will the life led according to a positive philosophybe productive and satisfying; it will also add gracefulness tothe inevitable process of aging and decline. In later adulthood, the person with a positive philosophy will be able, inlooking backward, to see his life as the one he was uniquelysuited to lead. In contrast, the person with a negativephilosophy will, as the process of aging advances, becomeincreasingly more fearful, self-protective, rigid, anddespairing.At this point, my presentation sounds Eriksonian. But Ihope you will recognize that in all else I have said and will say,quite a different conceptualization than his is operating.Positive and negative philosophies of lifeExistentialists tend to structure the positive and negativephilosophies of life I have sketched as "choices" that theperson makes. This is perhaps an understandable approachfor philosophers, who are not particularly concerned with21understanding individual differences. For them, the positivechoice expresses virtue and the negative vice.It is a proper task for psychology to understand thecharacteristics of personality, the individual differences thatdetermine the likelihood of positive and negative philosophiesof life. But I am afraid we will not get much help from existential psychologists, who have by and large been too poetic,too enamored of mysteries, and too preoccupied with thepragmatics of psychotherapy, to provide systematic theorizing concerning individual differences and their development.But such considerations are extremely important, and I shalltry to make a start on them.First, consider what a person needs to do in order to reachthe positive philosophy of life. He needs to have clear recognition that certain events in his experience are indeed confrontations with death and therefore extremely important tocome to terms with. And he needs to be able to keep his witsabout him so as to deploy his capabilities well in dealing withthese serious encounters. The various personality characteristics implied in this are well summarized as courage, avery useful attribute in facing dire realities and turning themto advantage.Negative philosophies are reached by persons who eitherfail to recognize the significance of certain events as confrontations with death, or who, having achieved suchrecognition, resign themselves to what appear to be overwhelming obstacles and insufficient personal capabilities. Thevarious personality characteristics implied here are well summarized as cowardice, or the disorganizing and demoralizingeffects of dread in the face of dire realities.Components of courage and cowardiceLet me be more precise about the components of courageand cowardice. To be courageous, one thing a person needs isself-confidence, or the belief in his own worth and capabilityfor living. He also needs to be well exercised in the cognitivecapabilities that create meaning — namely, symbolization,imagination, and judgment.The more you exercise the function of symbolization, thegreater the number and differentiatedness of the categoriesyou have available with which to construe experience. Themore you exercise imagination, the greater the number ofideas about change available to you in altering your environment. And the more you exercise judgment, the more personal values and preferences you develop. Hence, tosymbolize, imagine, and judge is to create meaning.What I am saying is that, in confronting death, the personwho has a predilection to symbolize, imagine, and judgevigorously, and who is amply supplied with self-confidence,will not panic, and will be ingenious in transforming thoseevents into a positive philosophy of life based on challenge,strenuousness, and a reliance on personally constructedmeaning.In contrast, the cowardly person lacks self-confidence,being beset by doubt as to his own worth and capability. Inaddition, he is not given to active and vigorous exercise of the cognitive functions of symbolization, imagination, andjudgment, relying instead on the few conventional categories,ideas about change, and values and preferences taught him byothers. Consequently, when such a person confronts death,he reacts with terror, is unable to manage ingenuity in the faceof dire reality, and either shrinks from developing anyphilosophy of life, or develops a negative one which highlights despair and disappointment at what a bad lot life is.The major part of the story of how some persons becomecourageous and others cowardly is undoubtedly told inparent-child interactions.In considering the development of self-confidence, a characteristic hardly unique to existential thought, I am ready toendorse what is already known in psychology. S. Cooper-smith's excellent program of research shows that three orientations are most common in the parents of self-confidentchildren: (1) acceptance of the children, (2) the imposition onthem of defined limits, and (3) respect for their initiative andfreedom within the defined limits. Notice how far this is fromthe wishy-washy unconditional positive regard of theRogerians. The parents in Coopersmith's study manageacceptance and respect for the child while at the same timeimposing standards of performance. Further scrutiny of theparents indicates how they manage this. They are themselvesactive, definite, involved persons, who esteem themselves andwish their children to be similarly active, definite, andinvolved. Presented with a clear picture of their parents' viewof life and given some options to agree or disagree in definingtheir own lives, the children are low in anxiety and high inself-reliance.In outlining parent-child interactions suited to the development of vigorous symbolization, imagination, andjudgment, it should be indicated at the outset that much ofwhat builds self-confidence builds the capability of creatingmeaning as well. In order to be the active, definite, influentialpersons the parents are, they would have to be vigorouslyexercising symbolization, imagination, and judgment in theirown lives. Such parents will provide effective models for theirchildren to emulate, especially so because their attitudetoward the children is accepting and respectful.But merely presenting an appropriate model is probablynot enough. The child must come to believe that he, too, notjust his dazzling parents, is capable of influencing the eventsof his life and creating his own meaning through exercise ofcognitive capabilities. Parents must provide consistent andaffectionate reinforcement whenever the child follows theirmodel and attempts to symbolize, imagine, and judge. Theparents must do this even if the attempts are simple and childlike, an educational commitment many active and effectiveparents find difficult. If the child does not, through imitation, give instances of symbolization, imagination, and judgment that can be reinforced, then the parents should considerexercises, perhaps in the form of "games" that will stimulatethese cognitive functions. How many ways can the childconstrue the same event (exercise for symbolization)? Howmany ideas can he develop for changing some status quo(exercise for imagination)? How definite can he become in22stating preferences and values in a particular area (exercisefor judgment)?Parents can foster cowardliness by the opposite approach.They can build self-doubt in the child by having a generallyrejecting and disrespectful attitude toward his initiatives andby failing by define limits in a consistent fashion. Also, if theydo not provide, by model or positive reinforcement, anystimulus to symbolization, imagination, and judgment, thechild will not develop these resources. Even worse, parentsmay actually find symbolization, imagination, and judgmentin their child sufficiently threatening to react with punishment. The result will be a child with self-doubt, mountinganxiety, and an inability to influence his own life.Creative endeavorThere is no better way to summarize the courageous way oflife than to discuss creative endeavor. But it must be clear thatI am not using the term creative endeavor as a synonym forany professional, scholarly, or entrepreneurial activity.Creative endeavor is the concerted attempt to produce thingsor ideas that are new and effective. A thing or idea is new andeffective if it (1) solves a previously vexing problem, or (2)structures existing ambiguity by pinpointing a problem to besolved.Creative endeavor involves not only enormous imaginativeness in attempting novelty, but also remarkably soundjudgment in pinpointing or solving problems. As such, it isvery difficult and strenuous, and requires that simpler andmore comfortable pursuits be relinquished. In addition, creative endeavor is often sociopolitically dangerous, as it tends todisrupt the status quo, something not many persons or institutions can accept gracefully, no matter how much lip serviceis paid to the value of creativity.If this analysis is correct, it raises the question of why anyone would want to dedicate himself to creative endeavor? Myanswer is predictable by now. First, you must emerge fromearly life with the personal resources of self-confidence and apredilection for symbolizing, imagining, and judging.Then there must also be at least small encounters withdeath. This is easy, as such dire realities are virtually unavoidable. In such a developmental mix, the person will verylikely use the resources just mentioned to recognize the truesignificance of the dire realities, and react to this by constructing a positive philosophy of life. This philosophy willemphasize (1) the acceptance that one has only partial controlover events and that conventional values are inapplicable, (2)the importance of creating one's own meaning in the form ofvalues and preferences, (3) the necessity of identifying andpursuing those matters of special importance to you, and (4)the view that life, properly led, is challenging and strenuous.Once this happens, you will very likely feel driven towardcreative endeavor because its requirement of new andeffective productions so completely fulfills your view ofyourself and the nature of life.Each creative act is personally-constructed meaningattempting control over the course of life through being effective.But it is also provisional, to be succeeded by the nextcreative act, should changing events require this. And it goeswithout saying that sociopolitical danger would not be a deterrent, as it would be part of the expectation ofstrenuousness.I have construed creative endeavor as a highly conscious,rational approach to coming to terms with a life complicatedby the inevitability and immanence of death.As such, my approach is radically different from prevailingorthodoxies in psychology. Creativity, for me, is not amassive welling up of unconscious material best encouragedby a relaxation of cognitive control, as suggested by thepsychoanalytic tradition. Nor should my developmentalemphasis on modeling and shaping be construed as abehavioristic view in anything except understanding howlearning takes place.If behaviorists have any explicit view on what should belearned, they emphasize adjustment to existing socialarrangements and pressures. It should be clear that my viewof creativity and the strenuous life is quite opposite to this.Finally, the emphasis on easy comfort and the dangers ofdiscipline in much of what is loosely labeled "humanism"these days also diverges from my view. The existentialapproach emerges as a distinct and different approach tounderstanding creativity and living.To DarwinSomewhere behind me on that long fifth dayThat reeled from glycine to gorillaA myriad myriad turnings round the sun ago,In fresh seas moon-wracked and cyclone rentSloshing and rocking in new-laid basins,It slowly swelled, crusted itself,Split, died and dropped its shellon what slow-silted early river mouth.So I, a trilobite, washed on this bounded flatPitted with tedium and dread of death,Precipitate crystal by crystal in stoneOf flesh on what race-moulded deltaSomewhere a myriad myriadTurnings round the outer galaxy,Before that Sabbath even when nebulaeIn jubilee play games with Newton.MARSHA LONDON POIRIER, phB'48, SM'5123The Magazine salutes the 13,002 alumni whooffered and fulfilled the Andersons' ChallengeWhen the announcement of the Robert O. and BarbaraAnderson Challenge to their fellow alumni was made lastspring, the road to fulfilment seemed almost impossiblysteep. By November 30 the total stood below the $500,000mark; with a month to go, the objective seemed to bereceding.But by December 31 the Challenge had been met. Morethan 10,000 alumni had given; in December, giving was at therate of $125,000 a week. Under the leadership of EmmettDedmon, national chairman of the Alumni Fund, more than1,500 alumni volunteers labored mightily. Earle Ludgin wasmoved to write one more eloquent appeal to his fellow alums.Across the country alumni had kept the phone lines busy.Local meetings proliferated. The Chicago area saw animportant series of "town meetings" held under the leadership of Merilyn Hackett.The Andersons' Challenge was met. The Campaign for Chicago, Phase 2, continues. The alumni demonstrated theirability to rise to the Challenge. The University hopes andbelieves that the level of giving achieved in the Challengeeffort will continue as a permanently increased— and necessary — level of support.This magazine salutes the two Andersons for theirdramatic challenge and salutes the 13,000 alumni whoanswered it, as well as another 6,000 who continued their pastlevel of giving.Special thanks are due to those trustees who helped with theeffort. Norm Barker, Hart Perry, Larry Buttenweiser, WesChristopherson, Gaylord Donnelley, George Ranney, andGeorge Watkins, in addition to Emmett Dedmon, wereinstrumental in the Challenge drive.Following is a list of many alumni (but certainly not acomplete list) who participated as volunteer workers in thesuccessful effort to fulfil the Andersons' Challenge.Akron/Kent, O.Harris L. DanteDr. Max GriffinPaul HarrisArchie HendricksLouis KalavityDonald MulvlhillAlbany. N.Y.Beryl DrobeckSara HarrisNorman SlromingerAnn Arbor. Mich.George G. CameronS Roland DraysonJohn EtterChester FeldmanJerome FultonCharles GarvinDee KilpatrickJohn TropmanJohn WittekindtAtlanta. GaJane AndrewsBrunswick BagdonAnnC. BunchJ. Lester FraserBudd GoreScott KleinerBeniamin MaysH Prentice MillerClifton PanneliDaniel ParkerSue ParkerClarence SillsChloe SteelEmeliza SwamWilliam Joseph ThompsonRichard TimberlakeKay WhileAustin, Tex.Luclle HamnerW Rea KeastDorothy Led betterRobert LedbelierWayne LesserRobert WessSandra WessBaltimore. Md.Carl ChristPhyllis ChristEve DavisMichael EdidirJeremiah GermarPearl GermarJeanne HansenM. Glenn HardingRobert HughesEdward JonesJoseph KaplanEsther LazarusJoanne NathansMazie RappaporiRalph SaulConstanceTwiningBloomlngton. III.="aui BakerCharles CaielStanley HeggerPaul MafhlasRobert Matthew?Robert McCorcBoston, MassA WalSOn Armour. IVHerbert BaerTheMer Harold FeldmanAlbert FortierGeraldine GomeryJames R. GordleyPeter HanenVivian HawesCathy HoffmanElmer JonesMrs. Howard Mumlord JonesMax KargmanDushanka KleinmanJoel KleinmanMarcus LiebermanMarshall LyklnsAnthony NigrelliRichard SchaferMrs Richard SchalerViolet SiederDr. Julius Sllberger JrJane SnyderE David WangerLynda WaldmanRaymond WantaWalter W WienersDavid WyheBroward County, FlaMiriam BrenwasserRhea BrenwasserDr. Ira FinegoldDr Arnold TanisMaxine TanisRuth WaskeyBuffalo. N.Y.Kenneth CohenJames MyersRalph YalkovskyCedar Rapids, la.Gary AhrensMic Krau:as Br;id-,I Cohen Sharon PetraitisStephan WeinstelnChampalgn/Urbana, til.Bernice AckermanRachel E AndersonEdgar E AthertonMrs Richard I Gumpor1Harold G HalcrowEllen HandlerWilliam T HendersonSteve A JohnsonPatrick R. LaughllnCecil H PattersonAdhur J SiedlerJelfrey A SwansonAllen S WellerChicagoLester AbelsonWilliam L AchenbacrElan AdlerThomas H AlcockCaroline AllensonArlene AlperlGeraldine S AlvarezMarcia AndersonMargarel AndersonJohn B Angelc.esterJ AntlerRose ArdenWade ArendsVan C. ArgirisMichael ArmisteadHarold L Aronson, JrGeorge Arquilla, Jrrwin J AskowAnthony AtkinPhilip Sloan AuchinclossDr Lauren BachmarWarren H Bacon. SrDonald Baer Marge BartelsPatricia BartholomewDiana BaskovitzGail BaumanJohn H BaumanSusan P. BayerCharles BeckerRobert Douglas BeckerJack D BeemEugene BeiselMrs. Otto K BencaMarshall BennettMichael BennettEdward D. BenninghovenRoger G. BenslngerMurray BergWilliam H. BergmanOrrm L BernsteinRheaO BertelliEsther BerrymanIrwin J BiedermanDr Lloyd J Blakeman JrLouise BlakemanJean BlockMax S BloomDr Jack E. BloomElsie S BlumbergCharles W. BoandAdelyn BogertGeorge T. BogertKathleen BogieRobert G. BohnenVictoria BoiesJoan BowmanJane BradyRuth BrandzelDorothy E. T. BrennerEarl BromstedtHerbert C BrookLester BrownMarcia BrueggemeyerJean BucholzJames E BurdEdward M BurghWilliam F CarrMarvin ChandlerMargery ChapmanMax L ChillMary W ChristopherDavid ClarkeGeorge Coffin, JrElda Angela ColomboEsta L CohenE. Tyna ColesFrancisco CollazoDorothy Burk CollinsJane R CoulsonJohn CoulsonJames R. CoulterVirginia CoulterRobert W. CroweKaren CulbergWildaJ. DaileyMeryl S DannMrs William DarrowEddie DavisMarion DavisMrs Richard A DavisJames DavranDonald William DayMrs. Warren J DelaneyBernard J. Del GiornoNatalie DevoeEarl B. DlckersonDr Catherine DobsonStanley P. DoddJames R. DonnelleyJames E DoyleJanet DrakeDr. Otto H. DrlppeJoseph DuCoeur Charles R. DuffyBetty DurchslagAlfreda DusterNanette M DuweCraig EarnestJohn Robert Effinger JrEdmund K EichengreenRichard EldenJess ElliottMary EmanuelsonNeill EmmonsMary P. EndresRonald L EngelElliot S. EpsteinPhyllis S EpsteinRobert EltelsonLouise FasslerA Daniel FeldmanDr. AsherFinkelConnie FishRobert FitzgeraldDr C Larkin FlanaganRichard E. FlanaganPaul A. Florian IIIGreta FloryWilliam N. FloryHarold Foreman, JrMarie F. FormanJacob L Fox. Jr.Marion S FranckeStanley M FreehlingSusan FreehlingBetty FrldlundNancy FryR. Neal FulkMaurice FultonIreneG FuntRichard J GabrielLinda GalbelCheryl GainesJohn P. GallagherSheldon GarberWilliam GarveyAnthony GasbarraVan R. GathanyWaller GatzertArnold M GilbertRobert GilnikelJohn GiuraMelvin GoldbergerJan Byrne GoldmanCarol GoldsteinSteven GolovarHelen GombinerHoward GomblnerMitchell GoodmanMrs. Mitchell GoodmanPaul W GoodrichBernard GordorLila GordonSally FoxGorenBarbara GoltschalkThomas A GoltschalkGloria GrayWilliam S. Gray, IIIDavid GreenMarvin Green3aui GreenSadelteT GreenblatiJoan GreenstoneJohn R GrimesSteven Grossman>_eo Sj GuthmanSolomon GutsleinCheryl GuyA. William Haarlow, IIIMerilyn HackeltAlice HaddixKatherine HagbergHarry Hagey. JrJ Parker Hall, III Joan HallettJames G. HalvorsenHelen B. HardingVirginia M. HardingDavid J. HarrisMargaret HarrisRosella HartDon HeinrichDavid HelmsD A Henllan-JonesDonald HennenfentJ. Gordon HenryDon HenschelWilliam T. Hensey, JrMary J. HerrickJudy Herzig-MarxRobert E. HerzogHoward J. HessMary Margaret HessHenry L. HIMHarold Hines, JrDr. Myron HipsklndThomas D. HodgklnsDoris HoigardJohn T. HortonJohn A HubbuchHelen HughesMarjorle HusumDr Robert F. IngerRobert IngersollCarol IronsGeorge U IsaacsMarian IwertLucille JacobsBarbara McKlnney JacksonJulian J. JacksonPhyllis JacksonSally Joan JacobsonHelen Stein JaffeKaren JanzenHenry JaroszIrene G. HayneChandra K. JhaGeorge Dana JohnsonPenny R JohnsonVirginia JohnsonCollen Moore JonesMargaret KahnVirginia KaminBurton W. KanterBernard KaplanRuth KaplanGeraldine Katz-AtkinJ Keith KavanaughRobert KehoeDennis J KellerNancy KellerSamuel D. KerstenJoseph KestnbaumFrances KiemSung Ok KimEleanor KingWlllard KingRuth KinneyDr, C. Frederick KittleDan KletnickMartin KoldykeWilliam J. KorsylkDr Sumner KraftDr Ruth J. KralnesMichael C. KraussCharles W. LakeRobert S. Landauer, JrDavid LandsittelMrs Ben LandsmanTheophile LavizzoMrs Theophile LavizzoC. Thomas LenarlsonMarilyn LevinRichard H. LevinKay A. Levine Julius LewisSamuel R. Lewis. JrMrs. Samuel R. Lewis JrJane LewyRobert B. LlftonAlton A. LinfordSal LoCascIoHelen LockhartAlvin W. LongChannlng LushboughEloise LushboughFrancis J. LynchSusan LynchRebeccaS LyttleDaniel MacLeanBruce A. MahonKitty Balrd MannHerbert S ManningJune Mai imgAnn MarakisLafayette M MarshSheila MarshallC. Virgil MartinJohn A MattmillerMrs Frank D. MayerJohn McCleesMartha Mills MclnerneyGordon C. McKeagueJoanne MedakElizabeth MeekNicholas J. MelasJudy MendelsMark MroziakMary F. MeuserRobert L MetzenbergCatherine MeyerMarilu MeyerLoretta MichaelFrank X MikelsMarian MillerMartin MillerTom MlnlchSusan MookJane MooreMargaret MooreDr. W. Aubrey MooreHarvey P. MorganThomas E MoranGwendolyn MorelandJohn A MorrisHelen MukoyamaMargarette E MurphyRosalind NachmanBernard NathTed NebelAnne NeryAnne L NeustaetterPaul R NicholsMrs GeorgeJ NohavaWilliam C. NorbyJack NorwellMarietta O'HaraBelly OostenbrugWilliam OostenbrugJohn C. O'RourkeFranklin OrwinMaurice PageKeith l. ParsonsLorraine ParsonsPalrlcia ParsonsRu; II Par'Michael W PayetteAileen D PearsonNancy P. PerrlllJames PetersonJames E. PetersonAnnaG. PickensAveril PlelemeierDiane PlolklnAlex PollackSuzanne Prescott AraPridjIanWilliam PriebeKenneth C. PrinceVirgil P. PuzzoPatricia OulnnMary Ann RadowsJames M. RatcllffeGerald A. RatnerHelen E. RayMrs C. A. ReedMarion RegnerBryan ReidFred ReplogleDr. Henry RlckettsGeorge G. RlnderJaneS RlshelGwendolyn RitchieDana RobertsGenevieve RobertsEdwin RobinsonMary Elizabeth RobinsonVirginia RobinsonMercedes RomeroHomer E. RosenbergJoan RosenbergLinda RosenblumMiriam RosenblumBabs RosenthalSamuel Rosenthallla Susan RothschildDr Donald RowleySandra RubinsteinDr. Henry RusseMrs Paul RussellMary N. RynersonMarlon SalmonRobert E. SamuelsSonya SaperCharles SatinoverEdward W. SaundersJohn SchaelMax Schiff. Jr.Dr. Jay H. SchmidtJean SchmidtDonald SchnellMargot SchnitzerCharlotte SchuermanArthur W. SchultzElizabeth SchultzSarah SchultzMrs. Charles SchwartzDr. Randolph W. SeebFred H. SegnerPatricia C. SegnerNatalie R. SeltzerJohn G. SevclkEarl W. ShapiroReevaShulruflDiane SilvermanAdlne SimmonsJames SimmonsMarlon E. SimonJuana Josefa SinclairRobert SkeensDr. Joseph SkomMark SmallerMrs. Gordon H. SmithRobert Thomas Smith, IIIJane Snelderman-StokarJoseph SondhelmerWilson F. SoudersHelen L. SpringerJohn R. SlanekCarl S. StanleyWilliam H. StapletonMrs. George SteeleRose SteinbergWallace StenhouseLouis E. Sterling, JrMayer K. SternJeane StiefeiFrederick H. StlttCynthia StoneSusan StoneDr, Francis Straus, IIEdith T, StraussWalterJ. StraussMaxSluckerAllen P. StultsEva A. SutherlandNina SwainCharles SwansonKent L. SwansonNate SwiftJoAnn SwlkartYoshlharu TaklmuraDr. Joseph Teegarden Jr.Rosemary TerryStella H. TharpNelson ThomasJohn E. ThompsonEllen ThroPeter TodhunterRosemary TozerJean TromblyDr. William TurnbullLester B. Vande BergJean VanderllndeHazel VespaFred VldaElmer M. WalshRobert WalshCarole WaltonPhoebe WangerDr. Sherwyn E. WarrenStanley WarsawHarletteS. WashingtonGeorge H. WatklnsAlbert Wei gelJane WeinbergGeorge WestermanDr. Robert W. WhistlerMargery WhitcombLynn A. WilliamsRebecca WilliamsAllan Wilson, Jr.John WilsonJan Harris WolfArnold R.WolffPaula WolffJohn R. WomerDorothy WoodsFranks. WrobelGregory WrobelHart WurzburgIkuo YamaguchiGeorge YaseenLouis YaseenSusan YelllgJames L. ZachariasCharles W. ZerlerCincinnatiRobert M. HughesBruce IdeThomas JamesKen LeonardMarcia LeonardCarol LowRon LowDedeMallofJoseph MallofCorky Philip SteinerEdwin WileyHorace R. ZibasClevelandBen HausermanNoreen HaygoodVirginia KuperLeatrice MadisonAnn MatzColumbus. O.Robert BoschDr. Chad FriedmanPeggy HeddenM. Anne SaucierGeorge TresselHarold ZeltlowDallas/Fort WorthDavid BloxomBetsy BrowderIra CornMabel CrabtreeRita DouglassEverett GeorgeGeorgia GunkleKenneth llllgRuth KahnLawrence NewmanDavid RlehlLucy Brent TolbertDayton, 0.Wayne BarrJohn KmetRev. James NelsonGordon WilliamsDenver, Colo.Harvey H. AncelElissa AngellCleon MorganJoyce K. NewmanDr. Melvln M. NewmanCarol PowellJames H. ThompsonThomas J. WhitbyDavid YuDes Moines, la.Steven BlankJoseph BrlsbenAllan H. FrankleEsther FrankleChester GrahamDr. JohnW. Green. JrRaymond HayesF. Richard LyfordKay StroudTheodore StroudDetroitRobert W. BergstrandAllen ButterworthChester CableGary ChlsmDavid P. ChockFred CurrierDennis KayesDouglas KrauseAlfred LaBargeColeman LevinDavid McCormickLorna MlddendorfFrancis M. MoynlhanArthur SugarmanMilton SykesGrand Rapids, Mich.Allen BobroffEthel BobroffRose HazzardFrederick Hubbard Manlred MundellusPaul Rohns, Sr.Hartford, Conn.Charles EdwardsLawrence FishGregory JordanNorman KoganHoustonJohn BauerMont HoytJoyce KaplanGerald LaBouffCharles PuestowDr. F. Hermann RudenbergR. Allen WhiteRobert P. WilliamsIndianapolis, Ind.Ruth BozellRuthCaryDarrell DiamondDaniel JohnsonJordan LelbmanClark WilliamsonMrs. KarlZimmerKalamazoo, Mich.William MillerHenry RohsSam StoneKansas City, Mo.David AchtenbergKay ArchibaldEdward BarnlcleSue BarnlcleCarl BobkosklGloria BriggsKenneth ButlerDr. Joseph P. CallguriLarry ColkerHelen HuusKathleen JonesWillaLeeDr. Alexander LlchtorLynn LundgaardPhilip MetzgerDianne S. MyersDr. Frederick Samson Jr.Edith StensonLansing, Mich.Mary J. BandurskiBennett SandefurHerman SlatlsJames SwiftLexington, Ky.Mrs. John AnthracopoulosG. Philip PointsGrace E. WhiteLouisville, Ky.Dr. LeeChutkowRobert NiblockRufus ReedMary M. WymanMadison, Wis.K. Jane BruereBruce BurstenSandra FrazeeEthel L. HasklnsDale JohnstonMadelynne JohnstonPaul KusudaH. Dean LettermonRobert D. LongstrethRobert MartinThomas O'ConnorMrs. Walter PolnerCatherine RohertyMiami, Fla.Marshall BerksonJane EpsteinBelle GoldstrichMilton GordonFrancis HaasJulia JohnsonInez KrenskyMrs. Heeren S. E. KruseNettle LefkowitzSelma MarcusHelene PirrltteMilwaukee, Wis.Gertrude BreeseHelen BusheJames E. ClintonMarian KayeMax KurzMelvln LurleGaar SteinerEloise Summit!Edwin T.WileyMinneapolis/St. PaulWayne ArrowoodAlice ArrowoodFrederick AsherConstance BaillleJames BalllieDr. Roger BecklundSarah BeebeJames ByrneHendrlk DeJongRichard EricsonArthur GeffenRev. Emil GudmundsonMichael KiteckLinda MackWarren MackCheryl RegisterMargery SmithGail WaldronGerald WaldronJohn WeldmanFremont WilliamsLynn WilliamsCasper WolhoweNew Orleans, La.F. Wlllard BennettJoan BennettJohn BoopRoy L. BushDr. Herbert DyerAdele EdisenNew YorkHerbert AdaskoRochelle AdaskoEve BaruchMar|orle BassettJohn T. BensonLeonard BerlinBarbara A. BlanockMary M. BlanockJames BodeJanet BowerRobert BrawerAl BruggemeyerDavid S. DennisFrank DetwellerMichael Dundon WllliamS. EvansDavid L. FisherAllan FrumklnJames S. FullokaMrs. George F. GaalMartin 6. GendellWilliam GoetzPeter A. GoodsellGary J. GreenbergSwea HallgrenDr. E. Jack HarrisBetty HartwellJohn F. HarveyMichael S. KochAdrienne M. LefkowitzAnne K. LeonardMarguerite LohrerPaul LuskinEva MassHarvey MirskyThomas P. MolnarGayle Squyres MonasterGeorge MonasterDouglas OllilaMitchell PinesRodney PittsDonald A. PurcellElaine SchapkerVicky ShiefmanCynthia S. StuenVirginia VlckeryPaula WagnerForrest H. WhitneyDr. Harvey WolinskyJames XanthosBoris 2latichMatthew ZuckerbraunNorthern N.J.Mary CherlinRobert DenkewalterJames EdmondsEugene FeltNorman GevlrtzWalter GoodDavid KleinStuart LloydAlan LowensteinAlbert MeyerLeslie MeyerAlice PlungesLaurence ReichSylvia RosenbergEvelyn SabinoDiane SchwarzBenjamin ShackelfordPhoebe ShackelfordLeonard SwecThomas WilsonBetty ZossNorthwest IndianaValrle AdamsJ. 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VickersAnton J. VlcekRuth S WardPaul L WhitelyJudith WrightNotes on an experimental evaluation of four leading delicatessensusing as criteria their corned beef and pastrami sandwiches,in accordance with the axiom-. The deli is the sannawitch'Albert Madansky2 and Martin Shubik3ABSTRACTEight sandwiches — four corned beef and four pastrami — wereconsumed and evaluated by the authors with generally compatible results providing a new rank order for four top Manhattan delicatessens. A close fit of quality and price was found.In the course of revising their ratings of important New Yorkdelicatessens,4 the authors undertook a comparative study ofthe products of four of the most eminent establishments. Thiswork was necessitated by the facts that (1) the erstwhile meccaof delicatessen aficionados, the original Gaiety, is no more,and (2) the Stage has slipped.Following is the account of our experiment:There comes a time in the majestic flow of science whenafter many years of hard and apparently dull work the Curiesstand back in their (dingy and utterly middle-class) laboratory, knowing that they have isolated radium; or Michelsonand Morley with their interferometer mounted at mid-day ona heavy block of stone destroy ether; or Sir William Harveydemonstrates the flow of blood, thus destroying a large bodyof medical mythology.Thus it was in an undistinguished office on the tenth floorof No. 3 East 54th Street, New York City on Tuesday,January 2, at 12 noon that two scholars gathered together andunder carefully controlled conditions performed a simpleexperiment at the end of which, mute except for the occasional burp, they stood back in wonder at the majesty ofscientific method when applied with humility in the search forknowledge. On this day and at the very hour of noon (thesame moment used by Michelson and Morley) one of usl.cf. [1]2. Albert Madansky (AB'52, SM'55, PhD'58) is professor in theUniversity's Graduate School of Business and Director of the Centerfor Management of Government and Nonprofit Enterprise.3. Martin Shubik is the Seymour H. Knox professor of economicsat Yale University. Valuable assistance has been rendered by ourcolleague, Dr. Norman Shapiro of the RAND Corporation, thoughit was not possible for him to participate in the actual experiment.4. "In the beginning there was Gitlitz. Unto Gitlitz came Turous-sky (Katz's, That's All) and Max Asnas of De Stage. But before theStage Max sealed himself to the side of Harry Solomon and theymade the Gaiety. And when, in sadness, with the wry wisdom of ahorse bettor, Max Asnas left the Gaiety, then did he found the SixthAvenue Delicatessen . . . and then did the Gaiety close its doors onthe west side to all delimavens, yet did open again, as the bagel opensfor the lox, as Gaiety East." Richard Condon, personal correspondence. (Madansky) received, subsequent to their delivery to hissecretary, one corned beef and one pastrami sandwich fromthe Carnegie Delicatessen; one corned beef and one pastramifrom the Deli-East; the same from the Gaiety-East; and thesame from the Stage Delicatessen.This made a total of eight sandwiches.5Four bottles of Dr. Brown's Celray tonic6 and a supply ofregulation pickles and mustard were sent in.The experimental design used was simplicity in itself. (As isoften the case, the result of great complexity of thought issimplicity and elegance of design.)The secretary noted the sannawitches and did not disclosetheir point of origin to the experimentalists. We started in onthe pastrami (one-half of a sandwich was piled on a smallpiece of cardboard bearing only a number). In order tocontrol for temporal effects (caused for example by thecauterizing of the tongue) Madansky ate his pastrami halfsandwiches in the order: 4, 3, 2, 1; while Shubik ate them inthe order: 1, 2, 3, 4. We reversed the order for the cornedbeef. We each consumed one bottle of Dr. Brown's with thepastrami and one with the corned beef. Table 1 illustrates the5. Some dissenting views: "The taste test cannot be made with apastrami sannawitch complex, because pastrami, all pastrami, has tocome from the commercial processors. . . . Therefore, for scientificpurposes — and before I began my research I could never havethought I could ever find myself writing and believing such a thing-pastrami must join flanken and roast beef, tongue and egg salad,rolled beef and salami as so much irrelevant nonsense." RichardCondon, personal correspondence.But you can't rate the deli by its corned beef. Or by its pastrami.Or by its waiters. Any delicatessen worth discussing has all that. It'sthe fine distinctions that matter. And I don't mean "Is there sauerkraut on the side?" or "How many grepsses do you need to get froma Doctor Brown's before the heartburn leaves?" The true secretmethod of rating delis is by way of the chopped liver. Grantedit's not The Sannawich. But, to speak mathematically for a moment,the quality of the chopped liver can be used in a regression estimatorto assess the sannawich. (Madansky)See also the discussion by Roshwalb.6. "We might argue that a Dr. Brown's Celray must be taken intoaccount much in the same way as the Haut Brion is needed to reflectthe virtue of a good French meal" (Shubik).Dr. Brown must have approached his problem from behind hispalate because this line of miracle drinks, the greatest greps dredgersyet conceived by man, were never made as thirst quenchers or to besipped as some banal lemonade might be sipped alone on a summerafternoon. Richard Condon, personal correspondence.Its catalytic action when combined with pastrami in the stomach isthat of an atomic bomb. Varoom, and the pastrami disintegrates, isdigested, and its heartburning power is released in full. (Madansky)26unanimity of our assessments:Table 1Anonymous deli Pastramiidentification Madansky SI4321 Corned Beefubik Madansky Shubik4 4 43 3 32 2 21 1 1We took notes as we ate, rank-ordered, and then graded thesandwiches. After we had done so, the secretary came in andwe then attempted to identify the delicatessen from which thesandwiches actually originated. This is shown in Table 2:Table 2(in reverse order of quality)True Source Madansky ShubikStage 1 1 1Carnegie 2 3 2Gaiety-East 3 2 3Deli-East 4 4 4You will note that the authors, with unerring instinct, wereable to identify the Stage and the Deli-East. Madansky interchanged the Carnegie with the Gaiety.After the experiment was over and the authors had giventheir all for science it was realized that it was lunch time andneither writer felt up to a proper meal7 (perhaps mainly because our appetites had been upset by the green, glazed lookon the face of Madansky's secretary when she brought in theseventh and eighth sandwiches). The authors left the office totake a brief walk to the Gaiety-East where they procured twopieces of cheesecake to go, returned to the office, sent out forcoffee, consumed the cheesecake, and finished the coffee withtwo Dominican Republic cigars8.While doing so the authors spent time crouched over abacuses, investigating our statistics, designing our Greco-Latin squares, and engaging in data reduction— a vital buttedious part of scientific work.The results seemed to be conclusive:Observation No. 1:A chap, even though he has passed 40,' can, if he keepsto strict training (by the way, I [Shubik] have lost thirty-7. "You must realize that the air of any delicatessen which hasplayed to 82% capacity or more for a period of over four yearscontributes from its air— the high fat quality of the atmosphere itself—an additional 4.2 ounces of weight to every sandwich which isbuilt in that place." Richard Condon, personal correspondence.8. Brand— La Aurora— a good buy.9. In sadness I must add that the only reliable age for serious delicatessen criticism is at about 25. One chap I know named HirschlSchmalowitz was able to maintain almost Ruskin-like standardsuntil he was 29, but that is the aberration of genius. I am 52, longpast the form, and must now even fall back on memory-greppsing.Richard Condon, personal correspondence.10. Alas, Deli-East is no more. Its poor location combined withinexorable economic laws forced it, too, to go under. See alsofootnote 11. five pounds in the last six months) easily tackle foursandwiches and a piece of cheesecake with comfort.Observation No. 2:The Deli-East came out a clear first10 and the Stage cameout a clear fourth. Not only did our rankings agree, butwe were also able to identify the delicatessens. We weresurprised to see that the second in order was the Gaiety-East. Presumably this proves that great institutions diehard.For your information we include a list of comparativeprices:Table 3Gaiety- East:Deli-East:Stage:Carnegie: $1.301.101.201.20It may well be that in the outermost reaches of the twilightzone of the Bronnix there dwells a mute, unsung delicatessenof infinite quality; it may be that hidden amid the floweringshade trees of the Queens some poet-slicer" has set up hisstand. In science there is always the possibility of error. Inhumility we have sought; others will take our place. Six-sannawitch men may move to the front. For all we know,"somewhere west of Laramie"12 there may lie the answer.But for here and now perhaps it is only fitting that, giventhe great days of the growth of the delicatessen industry,laurels should still be awarded to the East Side of Manhattan,even though the current locale is a little further uptown thanin earlier times and the delis somewhat fancier. It is our personal joy to observe that after the work was done the bestsandwich turned out to be the cheapest. It was a "boggin."DISCUSSIONIrving RoshwalbSenior Vice President, Audits and Surveys, New YorkWhen I finished reading your papers, I had a heart-burnextinguishable only by two tablets in a glass of water.Being an amateur deli maven with no standing in the elite,professional author-group, but with an amateur's life-longdevotion to the search for the fulfillment offered to man by11. "Slicers ... are the big league pitchers of the delicatessengame. Get one who shades over four ounces and — whammo! — theboss is ruined. But get one who can, working verreh fast during alunchtime . . . , make 3.6 ounces look like 4.2 in a sannawitch and —whammo! — the boss is made." Richard Condon, personal correspondence.12. In my world wide delihopping, I stepped into Braverman's inChicago ("where the corned beef meets the pastrami comingthrough the rye") and am convinced it is the best deli outside NewYork. Braverman himself admits his product can be surpassed inNew York. (Madansky). But Braverman's has changed hands and isnow owned by a Greek. The derivative must be negative.27the delicatessen, I feel duty-bound to comment on the papers.The authors' search for the sandwich is much too clinicaland too prone to the cold consideration of the sandwich independent of its surroundings. The sandwich, to be wholly successful, must carry with it the gestalt of the delicatessen. Itmust embody the anticipation which directs one to the delicatessen for a meal or a nosh. It must carry in its Epicureanstrata the mouth-watering suggestiveness that the mere sightof the delicatessen window brings. It must evoke theenveloping warm aroma that gathers you up in its moistnessas you enter the emporium of ma'acholim.The decision to eat delicatessen must be one which takeshold of you and transports you to your favorite counter overany obstacles which may set themselves in your way. Thedesire must be so great as to cause hunger's hollowness to bean emptiness that has but one unique remplissement (noticethat a deli maven's erudition knows no linguistic bounds) —the sandwich.What a pastrami sandwich must mean to you is that youmust needs stand at the counter watching the construction ofthe strange legacy of an English Earl and some unknownRomanian meat curer.You feel compelled to watch as the counter-man carefullyspears the pastrami in the steaming depths of the steam table,trims away a little of the extra fat, and carefully places themeat in the slicer. All of this action takes place with tantalizing slowness, as if everyone were conspiring to keep you fromthe final consummation. Then, the counter-man carefullyarranges the slices on the bread, places the completed sandwich on a plate along with a slice of pickle. This is all aprelude to the penultimate act— the careful walk from the counter to the table with the seductive aroma of the pastramipreceding you. All of this goes into the sandwich. All therest— the quality of the bread, the tenderness and thinness ofthe slices of meat, the pickles, mustard, cole slaw, the Dr.Brown's— are certainly necessary conditions for the power ofthe sandwich to satisfy. But these are hardly sufficient conditions.The cold, precise Madansky-Shubik experiment is almostirrelevant. The cruel separation of the test sandwiches fromtheir environment and the execution of the test in the coldatmosphere of the laboratory at 3 East 54th Street clearlyshow that the dimensions of the problem have not beenclearly understood by generations of tasters.The best test of each delicatessen involved in the experiment would be one requiring a measurement of thequantity of saliva induced in each of these men by the meremention of the names of each of the delicatessens. Myhypothesis is that the delicatessen with the aura closest to thatof the great delicatessen will create enough salivation to havethe test subjects on a liquid diet.I have an additional hypothesis which I have demonstratedin countless experiments and that is that the farther one removes oneself from participation in the gestalt of thepastrami sandwich, the less significance and satisfaction inthe pastrami sandwich. Call this, if you please, Roshwalb'sInverse Law of Pastrami Satisfaction.Preparations for the saliva test are now underway.REFERENCE[1] Condon, Richard, And Then We Moved to Rossenarra (NewYork: Dial Press, 1973).Beumon-i()76In this anntocrsargconscious gear,mark pur ottm JWidttiaj) milcpost!Fridag, ^m jFaculty-alumni seminars: Center for Continuing EducationClass reunions: 1916, 1921, 1926, 1931, 1936, 1941,Emeritus ClubHospitality lounge: Alumni HouseDebate: University of Chicago vs. OxfordSaturday ^unc 5 In the C Shop: campus notables of the '30s. Recall them?Campus toursAwards luncheonAll-campus paradePresident's receptionFOTA finaleClass reunions: 1946, 1951, 1956, 1961, 1966 Send for more information. Return coupon to: Program OfficeAlumni House, 5733 S. University Avenue, Chicago, IL 60637.NAME-ADDRESS - CLASS YEAR/DEGREE..CITY/STA TE ZIP_28Sour apples from the tree of knowledgeWarner WickThe problem I want to explore with you has been with us for along time, being of feature of what is sometimes referred to,rather solemnly, as the human condition. That is why I beginwith the Book of Genesis; for however unreliable as cosmology or natural history, Genesis has good credentials as arecord of human reflection on man's estate. There are,however, some new developments that are worth our attention. While the basic problem has not changed, these developments are striking in ways that can help us to get a better gripon it.The tree of my title is, if not the very one the Lord is said tohave planted in the middle of that garden "eastward inEden," at least its direct descendant.According to the story, our ancestors lacked nothing in theway of welfare and security: their every need was providedfor; the country and climate were agreeable; every plant andanimal had its place in a stable eco-system with Adam andEve as its most favored tenants. Created in the image of Godthey were, with just enough self-conscious intelligence to beaware of their blessings and to praise the Lord in gratitude.But there was a catch. They were "responsible," if that isthe right word, only for accepting or rejecting one all important condition: they were not to eat any of the pretty appleson that one tree. Their only "decision problem" was to obeyor disobey a clear and unambiguous order.Of course neither Adam nor his wife could have had anynotion of what was at stake, or what God was talking aboutin calling it the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Forthat, they would have to have known something of good andevil already, which was exactly what was denied them as theprice of their sinecure in that well-appointed zoo. If theirstatus was scarcely different except in degree from that of theother inmates, they had no way of imagining anything else.It is not quite clear how the serpent happened to know thescore. Presumably he was no ordinary snake, but an immortalin disguise, as hinted by the Lord's later complaint that "theman has become as one of us." Anyway, the serpent wasright in thinking that a little subversion would make the newworld more interesting, and so he explained to Eve that a biteof the apple he offered her would put her and her husband awhole quantum jump ahead in the scheme of things: "Youreyes shall be opened and ye shall be as gods, knowing goodand evil." He wasn't lying.That is, as God and the serpent understood, having as-Mr. Wick is the William Rainey Harper professor in theCollege, professor in the Department of Philosophy, andeditor of Ethics. His paper was given at the inauguration ofthe Harper chair. sumed the divine prerogative of self-determined choice, theycould henceforth use innocence as neither plea nor refuge; forthey would share responsibility for the good and evil theywould know— at least in the sense of experiencing it as such.It would be, as we say, a whole new ball game.Of course they would have to live with the consequences,for a promotion brings new headaches as well as new opportunities. But the tempter didn't mention that; it would havegone over Eve's head anyway. The bad news followed soonenough, as the Lord took his accustomed stroll through thegarden "in the cool of the day" and found his wards blushingin their new-made clothes.I read the story as telling us that we have a share in one ofthe attributes of divinity, the capacity to act as we think bestfor objectives we think worth while, using means and procedures of our own devising. This elevates us above all othercreatures, who "know not what they do" in that although anintelligent observer may understand that their behavior helpsthem to survive, it is not guided by any end in view, as ours is.But at the same time we seldom "know what we are doing" inthe further sense of being fully aware of the consequences wemust suffer, but for which we are nevertheless accountable.Moreover, we owe the dignity of our position to Eve's curiosity and the serpent's guile, not to God's grace, from whichwe "fell."But in becoming able to make mistakes besides insubordination, for reasons often half-baked and with outcomesimperfectly foreseen, we also "rose" immeasurably in status.Eve's choice in opening up our horizons was a paradigm ofwhat was to come. She acted for an end so good — wisdom —that the Lord had jealously reserved it for divinities likehimself. That made her the first, if not fully intentional,"philosopher," or seeker of wisdom; and if she didn't getmuch of it, she also got more than she bargained for. Herchildren ever since have had doubts about whether it was agood bargain for creatures who are not omniscient, since "alittle knowledge is a dangerous thing." Is it better to enjoymindless security or to share the risks and excitement of affecting the future while trying also to manage oneself?Fortunately, the question is frivolous, for we are stuck withthe second alternative despite the dreams of Utopians whokeep hankering after an Eden regained.The sour aftertaste of Eve's apple is easily accounted for ifit is taken for granted that the world is in the charge of an all-wise Providence. After all, she and Adam sinned by disobeying orders and aspiring to rise above their station. They,and their children forever, were punished. That would explainwhy hard times and pain are not to be thought abnormal,whatever we do. But now, Providence having apparently beendeposed, the question of justifying God's ways to man29doesn't arise. The question that does is, If there is no mastermind behind the scenes, why don't things go better?To get a preliminary fix on why we typically find some ofthe fruits of our best-planned efforts turning sour, we mightfirst notice how often we could be asked, "But that was whatyou wanted, wasn't it?" Try that on the head of a two- orthree-car family in a tree-shaded suburb, whose kids are inrevolt and whose future is in hock to pay for house, school,and psychiatrist, as he fights his way home on the "freeway."Or try it on the advocate of school desegregation whowonders how the successes of his efforts so far seem to havemade most city schools more segregated than ever. "That waswhat you wanted, wasn't it?" Well, yes. But no! Not this!Somehow each feels that he has been had.And then, to bring out another feature of recent bewilderment, consider these remarks by Harlan Cleveland, a discerning public servant:There isn't anything we don't know about the modern city —its demography, its water table, its engineering design, its art, itsslums, its economics, its politics. We just don't seem to knowhow to make it beautiful, accessible, safe, and clean.He could say similar things about almost any topic of generalconcern: inflation, pollution, unemployment, energy andfood supplies, and so on. And he sums up his diagnosis in anaphorism that I commend to our connoisseurs of figures ofspeech: "In everything you and I undertake, the bottleneck issomehow the situation as a whole." Some bottleneck!Trying now to combine these two features in oneformulation, I venture something like this: If we seem to findourselves in bigger and bigger and ever more unmanageabletangles, it is not because we lack the ability to achieve most ofthe specific objectives in which we invest our efforts; for whatwe get is by and large what we "wanted," taken one thing at atime. It is rather because we can and do produce, get, andaccomplish more and more of what we want, so that we"succeed" with so many of these several objectives that wethereby "fail" to get them all together in a tolerable combination. That is how "the bottleneck" gets to be "somehowthe situation as a whole."This is clearly something new under the sun, at least inscale. But it is not completely unprecedented, for a description I applied to Eve's situation fits here too. That is, we act"knowingly" in being guided by ends in view; but in doing sowe rarely "know what we are doing" to our lives and world.As I said, these remarks have been by way of getting a preliminary fix on how it is that the fruits of knowledge can turnsour as we reach to taste and enjoy them. It is usually easier toinquire about a complex subject if we can first get a roughidea of the whole and then look to the relations between theelements that make it up. To these elements I now turn.Among the familiar distinctions we can use in analyzing aproblem about action is the one between the short run and thelong run. Alternatively, one can do it in terms of the intendedversus the unforeseen but concomitant consequences ofchoice or policy. Both distinctions apply here, for it is whatwe don't foresee now, because it is not part of our intendedobjective, that turns up later to spoil our enjoyment of it. But how helpful are these distinctions? They do redescribethe problem in a way that makes it look more familiar. Butthere is a visual metaphor in the background which each pairof terms handles differently. Considered one way, it seemsthat we don't see far enough ahead as we peer into the future(the long run). And at the same time our angle of vision is notwide enough to keep track of what is outside the focus ofattention because it is not what we intend. The two axes of themetaphor indicate a trade-off, just as the more a telescopemagnifies at a distance the narrower its field of view becomes,and the other way around. In short, it seems that we lack theall-seeing eye of omniscience. So what else is new?The objection to analyzing the problem this way is not thatit is "wrong," but that it is not helpful. If we can't knoweverything, it says, we should learn as much as we can. If wedon't know enough, there may be nothing wrong with whatwe do know that wouldn't be remedied by more of the same.So let's push ahead with more studies to produce morereports to store away in the information banks. But this takesus right back to what Harlan Cleveland said the problem was:there is scarcely anything we don't know or can't find outabout our world except how to make it a place where we canall live happily.Perhaps we should have asked first, in a more reflectivemood, about the different things we mean by "knowledge"?Maybe there are several quite different sorts of apples on thattree, making for good and evil in different ways?For instance, it is one thing to know that something is thecase and why everything like it in certain respects must be justas it is. By and large that is what the sciences, natural andsocial, tell us. They have produced what is called the information explosion.It is quite another thing to know how to bake a pie, build amoon-rocket, navigate it to its target, breed a rust-free strainof wheat or repair a leaky heart valve. The wonderful wealthof such "know how" comes from the technologicalexplosion.Knowing that and knowing howTo be sure, "knowing that" and "knowing how" areintimately connected in a number of ways, among which isthe relation by which a particular sort of research know-howgenerates new scientific understanding, which in turn becomes a base for new technologies. But it is important torealize that, as kinds of knowledge, they are quite different.The aim of one is an understanding of how things are — thatis, of what happens always or for the most part under certainstandard conditions, presumed to be invariant. The point ofknow-how is to change the way things are, typically by producing something that wasn't there before or by bringingabout a new arrangement of what was, and thereby alteringthe conditions for action in the future. And so it is not surprising that those who are best at throwing baseballs may bepretty vague about the laws covering the motions of projectiles, while a master of the theory of the expansion and30contraction of gases under varying temperatures may be aflop when he tries to bake a souffle, however precisely its riseand ultimate fall may exemplify what he knows.However, in spite of these essential differences betweenthem, it is because the useful arts and technologies make useof the causes and effects discovered by the theoretic sciencesthat the two have expanded hand in hand. It was an appreciation of the possibilities of this connection that led FrancisBacon, at the beginning of the seventeenth century, to declarethat "knowledge is power" and to prophesy the scientific andtechnical revolution that was to follow. We can see now thatthis amounts to having foreseen the two sources of our "universal bottleneck," the congestion that sets in when we knowand can do so much — the powerlessness of power, to coin aphrase in the stylish mode.Is there any other sort of thing that a person can be said toknow? Well, we often say that someone "knew what to do,"or that someone else "knows" what information is relevantand what things we know how to do are worth doing inpreference to others. But this is tricky. For one thing, theexpression, "knowing what to do," is ambiguous. For anyone who knows how to do something like drilling for oil alsoknows what to do in order to do it. That is part of what"knowing how" means, and in that sense any technicalknowledge tell us what to do //we want the particular objective of that productive art. But what we are now interested inis knowing which of such ends are most worthwhile at a particular time, "all things considered." Or considering ourresources of equipment, information, and know-how, what isthe sensible thing to do in this situation, which we know willsoon change?Even after this ambiguity is cleared up, other difficultiesremain. Chief among these is doubt about the credentials thatwould back a claim to know what to do in this unspecialized,comprehensive sense. Anyone who professes scientific understanding of some subject can cite evidence accessible to everybody; that evidence must support his claim according to acanon, a set of rules, that is both recognized by other investigators and communicable — that is, it can be taught —to anyone of reasonable intelligence. And finally, confirmingexperiments must be repeatable indefinitely.Much the same is true of anyone who professes to be amaster of any art or skill. It is not enough to have brought offsomething once. It might have been luck — an accident. Onemust "call his shots" ahead of time and show that he knowshow to make them by being able to do it as a rule, by beingable to teach others, and in most cases by giving the reasonsfor what he does. There is, therefore, a canon for this sort ofknowledge too, even though the standards are not quite sostrict. For example, since luck can be bad as well as good, weallow for the intrusion of some circumstance beyond one'scontrol by discounting a particular failure. We also don'tinsist that everyone of moderate intelligence be capable ofbeing taught any authentic skill, since where performancerather than understanding is in question individual differences in aptitude are thought to be important; and sometimeswe concede that a person does indeed know how to do some thing even though nobody fully understands the reasons whyhis procedure works, so long as his regular practice is specifiable and the results are generally as intended.Knowing what to doIn contrast to both these sorts of knowledge that werecognize, what I have called "knowing what to do" on aparticular occasion is not subject to public certification in anyof these ways, for there is no general canon that both codifiesstandards for it and can be taught. This is because, to putcrudely what I will treat more carefully later on, there is noway to tell how things would have turned out if one hadchosen differently through not having "known what to do"on that occasion.To be sure, when we look away from particular cases tolarger spans of a person's life we do notice that some people'schoices turn out much better on the whole than otherpeople's; but even so we hesitate to attribute the difference tosuperior knowledge. It may be that some are better favored,or have a "gift" for "flying by the seat of one's pants"; forthe favored ones can not, in candor, give an account of the"secret" of their successes. The Greeks, as usual, had a wordfor this condition, eudaimonia, which we lamely translate as'happiness,' although the root idea is having a good daimon,or guardian angel, watching out for you.It may be worth recalling that these broad distinctions havebeen part of our heritage for a long time, if not the object ofmuch recent attention. This week, for instance, my freshmanhumanities class is reading Plato's Meno, in which the leadingquestion is whether virtue can be taught. "Virtue" is neverexplicitly defined, but it is identified for purposes of the inquiry as what made Themistocles and Pericles good and well-favored men and good leaders of Athens — a fair approximation of what we have been considering. It is recalled thatthese worthies hired the best professors to teach their sonswhatever was teachable — from grammar and arithmetic tolyre playing and the rather special art of throwing a javelinwhile standing on horseback at full gallop. Yet not one of theboys "amounted to anything," for all their expensive andgenerally successful education. We all recognize the disappointment. It is concluded somewhat diffidently that virtue,whatever it is, cannot be taught, for otherwise it would havebeen; and that what made Pericles and the like stand out asmen and advisors must therefore not have been a kind ofknowledge. Were it knowledge, they would have been able toteach it to somebody and could have given some account of it.Instead, they must have had only true opinions about what todo. Their hunches turned out to be right most of the time,that's all. To have that knack is a "gift," presumably of thegods, since it is undoubtedly good.The more didactic and less ironic Aristotle comes to asimilar conclusion, except that he is willing to call this elusivegift "knowledge" in spite of its oddity. Knowledge, he says,is either theoretic, aiming at understanding things throughtheir invariable causes, or practical and for the sake of actionwhere the variable aspects of things give us opportunities. The31practical kind falls into two sub-classes, one of whichcomprises the many productive arts.The other he calls prudence or practical wisdom, thecapacity to deliberate well and choose aright "not about someparticular thing like health but about the good life as awhole." It has no canonical rules, not being "the object ofany art," and it comes to men of steady character only aftermuch experience, if it comes at all.He agrees, you see, with Harlan Cleveland that a referenceto "the situation as a whole" is a distinctive mark of this kindof "knowledge"; and Cleveland confirms what we have beensaying about there being no canon here: "You can't take aPh.D. in how to get it all together." Even if we got it all together it wouldn't stick. The world moves on.Backed up by the testimony of such diverse witnesses astwo Greek philosophers and a contemporary man of experience in public affairs, all of whom mention the same featuresin saying what might be meant by 'knowing what to do,' let ustry to refine the notion a little further. I suggest a look at thedifference between two sorts of skill or knowing how.The typical and familiar kind of technology assumes aclearly definable end in view, like the manufacture of shoes ortelevision sets. Here we have only to analyze the intendedproduct into its elements, draw upon our theoretic knowledgeto identify conditions for each factor, work back through theseries of conditions until we reach items within our control,and then form a strategy so that planned sequences of meansand ends correspond to understood relations of causes andeffects. Mass production is the perfection of this sort of practical knowledge, for a standardized product permits everystage of production to be standardized too, so that the wholeprocess can be controlled and, as we say, "rationalized," asthe variable works of an old-fashioned craftsman could not.The product of rationalized technology is really a class ofobjects having as many members as we like; and while anysuch productive process produces a predictable amount of"scrap," such lapses of control don't bother us. There arealways some accidental factors: a flaw in a piece of material,a worker whose attention happened to wander, a screwdriverthat slipped. And should the rate of scrap suddenly increase,we can expect to find a cause of a general sort that can beeliminated by a change in procedure.With this in mind, now think of another familiar but contrasting sort of know-how, where the end in view is stillclearly definable but where procedures can't be standardized.The definition of winning at chess or tennis is quite precise;that of a doctor's aim in making a patient well is somewhatless so, but not especially problematic. However, in suchactivities a clear conception of one's "object all sublime," letit be as precise as you please, is not enough. The reason is thata tennis player succeeds or fails with this adversary in thismatch, and the doctor with this patient, whom he may put outof danger, or beyond help, or somewhere in between. Here no"scrap" is tolerated and there are no second chances; nomove, no serve or volley, no treatment can be "played back"with corrections dubbed in. There are only post mortems forcharging mistakes to "experience" in hope of doing better next time. But for a lost match or set back patient there is no"next time"; there may — or may not — be another time, whenone may play another match or try to recoup the patient'sdeteriorated prospects. Therein lies the pathos of old warriors"fighting their battles over again" in tiresome reminiscence.That is the only refighting there is.Now contrast this with the plant manager with a production problem. He turns off the machines, makes a change,resumes to observe the difference it makes, stops again toadjust a valve, and so regains control of the manufacture ofwidgets that will pass inspection.There is a still more interesting feature of activities likethose we are now considering, where one necessarily plays forkeeps because it is the unique outcome that matters, ratherthan a class of them answering to a general description. Wehave, as we noted, clear enough criteria for success, in thatthe object of the game is precise. But whether we reach theobjective or miss it, can we ever be sure why? For example,although a doctor knows what he is trying to do, he can't besure whether his patient would have died or got well in spiteof him; but if he is not sure of that, there is little sense increditing a happy outcome to the doctor's art. Similarly thewinning chess player can't say whether it was the brilliance ofhis play or a lapse in the other fellow's concentration thatmade the difference. But if nobody can tell, on a particularoccasion, what made the difference, or why the result was asit was, what is the test for knowing how? Is getting therethrough some fluke succeeding? Well, hardly.It should now be evident that we have been reconstructing,in the context of some relatively special and acknowledgedskills with determinate ends, some of the difficulties foundearlier with "knowing what to do" on the larger and moreproblematic scale of "the good life as a whole." When weencountered them, you will remember, it was in connectionwith there being no way to certify a claim to know thatsomeone had done the right thing. There was no recognized,teachable canon to measure it against; and there was no wayto tell how knowing would differ in result from not knowingbut being lucky. It seemed then that this was because"knowing what to do" in the appropriate sense was a matterof "all things considered," or Mr. Cleveland's "situation as awhole"— which invoked the bugaboo of having to calculateunlimited relevances instead of the restricted relevancesmarked off by the limited objective of a canonical discipline.What we now realize is that when success or failure turnson a unique series of choices leading to a unique and unrepeatable event— this checkmate, or the present state of thispatient— a similarly indefinite range of circumstances becomes relevant, and with the same destructive consequencesfor claims to have known. When possibilities are infinite, orat least indefinite, how do we measure the role of any one?The first lesson we seem to learn from this reconstructionand comparison is the almost trivially obvious, and perhapsfor that reason insufficiently pondered, truth that we can userules and canons only in dealing with the repeatable or"regular" aspects of experience. That is why standardizedprocedures work when they do: we can exclude nearly all of32the circumstances that are potential troublemakers, so thatmost of what are left conform to the rules.But "Hold on!" you may object, "Aren't chess manualspublished by the dozen, and don't medical schools teach diagnosis and clinical practice?" Yes, of course, but they don'ttell you what to do in concrete situations — only in the"typical" ones that the manuals describe. They do not offer astep-by-step decision procedure. They deal, as they must, ingeneralities; and the best ones emphasize the "pervasivequality of uniqueness" — to put it paradoxically — of each caseand each move an agent is called upon to make. Listen toHippocrates, the earliest writer on medical practice I know:"... opportunity is fleeting, experiment perilous, and judgment difficult" (Aphorisms i.). They still are, and will remainso, no matter how much we learn of anatomy, physiology,and biochemistry; for decisions fall under rules only in so faras they answer to a general description, by having repeatableaspects.But aspects, like the terms that describe them, are"abstract," while what we do, like everything that is actual, isconcrete, inexhaustible by any finite set of descriptions ofrepeatable aspects. Unlike the standard procedures of thesuccessful technologies, which can for the most part ignorewhat lies outside the art's assumed "other things beingequal" or "boundary" conditions, the choices that decide amatch, a battle, or a man's health have no determinate boundary conditions in the respects in which they decide our fate.Good in itself vs. good on the wholeThis has been an attempt at a more general formulationof a principle we have seen at work before. Eve acted"knowingly" in accepting an apple from the friendly serpentand in disobeying an order, but she did not know that "whatshe was doing" in eating and disobeying was causing her andher daughters to "bring forth in pain." Oedipus knowinglyand deliberately married Jocasta, but he didn't know thatwhat he was doing was also marrying his mother. Like ourfrustrated contemporaries, they got what they wanted, didn'tthey? Under a certain description, yes: under a different butequally applicable description, definitely not. This resolvesthe paradox of "That was what you wanted, wasn't it?" byclarifying how "the same thing" can both be and not be whatwe want; how the fruits of the most reliable arts can go sour.A second lesson of this inquiry is perhaps only another wayof formulating the first, which was that the rules of art applyto what happens only in the abstract respects in which it fallsunder a general description or concept. The second lesson,which looks in a different direction, is that the same holds ofwhatever we think desirable or good — another almost triviallyobvious truth, lack of reflection on which leads to endlesstrouble. This is especially likely when we try to say what isgood or desirable "as such" or "in itself." For example,eating sweet red apples in a sunny garden is delightful, good"as such" but not come what may. That is, it is desirableunder that description, "in itself," without reference to anything else such as its effects on the digestive tract or, in Eve's case, on her status in the world to come.It is a wholly different thing to say that something is goodon the whole, or all things considered, or "absolutely" in oneof its uses.Yet when they talk of what is "good in itself" people havea deplorable tendency to confuse the two — deplorablebecause it seldom fails to do them in when they act on suchjudgments. That is, while we desire and pursue all our objectives as good, or sub specie boni as the medievals used to say,what we get and have to live with is not only that but all thatgoes with it, which is a pretty mixed bag and may not be goodat all on the whole as it comes in all the richness of actuality.This is the trouble with the propositions of fairy godmothers, opinion pollsters, plebiscites, and other temptersthat have replaced the serpents of mythology. They put theirpropositions as if they had no strings, or only a few. Live inyour dream house — only $1,000 down? Stop fat landlordswho want to raise rents? Strike for a 15% raise across theboard? As I said in the beginning, one of the reasons why weare in so much trouble is that the objects of such propositionsare now so often within reach, and that in attaining them wedo not know what we are doing to affect the quality of everyone's life or even our own.Having carried to tedious length my account of how sobountiful a good as the tree of knowledge can bear such bitterfruit, I will forego what was to have been my third lesson andsay only a little more about the notion of "knowing what todo," which I drew upon to disentangle the elements of myprincipal subject but have left in suspense. From where wehave arrived, it should be apparent that to insist on thepossibility of proving that a decision was the best, all thingsconsidered, and thereby exemplified knowledge, is in generalmeaningless and empty. There is much more that could besaid to show why, but at the risk of appearing dogmatic theshort version of it is that we can think of no test to distinguish"the" right decision from any number of plausible competitors. For to do that would be a little like replaying theRoman Republic without Caesar in order to find out howmuch of it was his doing.But however that may be, we do recognize that some peopleknow how to play chess, diagnose and treat patients, andchoose wisely about the issues of "the good life as a whole"to a much higher degree than others. We don't do it by firstgiving a firm score to each case and then adding them up, forwe should now understand why such a notion doesn't makesense. On the contrary, we estimate the aggregates first.Someone who consistently beats the field knows how to playchess; and someone whose projects prosper regularly but notnecessarily uniformly, and who is troubled by few regrets,knows what to do on the whole.If you should wish to reserve the name of knowledge forwhat can be reduced to a canon of rules, I have no objectionto your use of another label for what is not so reducible, solong as we agree that in denying "knowledge" you are simplyrecognizing that only what is regular is subject to rules,whereas, as Heraclitus would have said, we never make thesame decision twice.33£ Quadrangle ^/\ewsk University's School of Social ServiceAdministration.• Dr. Arthur Lee Herbst, who has been onthe faculty of Harvard medical school, hasbeen appointed chairman of the Departmentof Obstetrics and Gynecology. He will alsoserve as the Joseph B. DeLee professor ofobstetrics and as chief of staff of ChicagoLying-In Hospital. Dr. George L. Wied hasbeen acting chairman of the department.Debaters win top honors in Transatlantic tourneyUniversity of Chicago debaters went toLondon in January and came back trailingclouds of glory. Competing against forty-sixteams from Britain, Eire, Canada and theUnited States, they collected, in addition tosecond and third places, the sweepstakesaward as the best team in the entire tournament — the first Transatlantic Universities'Debating Competition.The two undergraduate members of theChicago group were Donald J. Bingle andThomas DiStefano. Their third in parliamentary debate was to Cambridge University and the University of Iowa lawschool.The graduate student contingent consistedof Joseph A. Morris (ab'73), who wonsecond in the individual competition (behinda representative of Oxford University), andLeon M. Bronfin. Both are third year lawstudents. In addition to the individual award,Morris and Bronfin were declared the bestAmerican team, and the in-depthperformance of the Midway contingentpulled down the grand award.The competition was held at the Universityof London, and the judges included, inaddition to London faculty members,members of Parliament, editors of the Timesof London, and British barristers andsolicitors.Each team engaged in four debates per dayfor five days. Among the propositions:"Was Edmund Burke a Closet Revolutionary?"; "Can Classical Liberalism and Nationalism Be Reconciled?"The Chicago debaters' appearance in theDebaters reunion featureThe stellar performance of Chicago'sdebaters in international competitionwill redound to the delectation andenlightenment of alumni who attendthis year's reunion. The debaters willtake on Oxford University June 4 (seenotice on Page 28).Debater Morris in action at the University oflondon. competition was sponsored by the SpecialDebating Program of the Alumni Association, whose moving spirit was JulianJackson (pIib'31), immediate past president of the association.Johnson named provostD. Gale Johnson, the Eliakim H. Mooredistinguished service professor of economicsand the College, has been appointed provostof the University, succeeding John T.Wilson, now the University's president. Inaddition to his academic titles, Mr. Johnsonhas also been vice-president and dean offaculties. Previous to his appointment asvice-president, he had been chairman of theDepartment of Economics since 1971 ; in1973 he had been named special assistant tothe President. His degrees are from IowaState and Wisconsin; he was a graduatestudent on the Midway in 1939-'41 . His fieldof specialization is agricultural economics.• Arnold C. Harberger (am '47, PhD'50) hasbeen named chairman of the Department ofEconomics, succeeding Mr. Johnson.• William B. Cannon (am'49) returned to theUniversity at the start of 1976 as vice-president for business and finance. Hesucceeded Jean Allard (jd'53), who isreturning to the practice of law. Mr. Cannonwas vice-president for programs and projectsat Chicago from 1968 to 1974, when he wentto the University of Texas as dean of theLyndon B. Johnson school of public affairs.Mr. Cannon also will be professor in the Donnelley to leave boardGaylord Donnelley, who joined the University's board of trustees in 1947 and waselected its chairmanin 1970, advised theboard in Januarythat he would retirefrom the chairmanship in June. Mr.Donnelley, who is65, retired from thechairmanship ofR. R. Donnelley &Sons in May, 1975.Mr. Donnelley isthe eighth chairmanof the University'sboard. His father, Gaylord DonnelleyThomas Donnelley, was a board memberfrom 1909 to 1938.New trustees namedMrs. Glen A. Lloyd and Edwin A. Bergmanhave been elected to the University's board.Mrs. Lloyd has long been active in supportof the University. A member of the Women'sBoard and of the Visiting Committee to theDivision of the Humanities, she also is aYehudi Menuhin, renowned violinist, speakswith a well-wisher at reception following hisreceipt of the University's Rosenbergermedal. Only two other Rosenberger medalshave been awarded to musicians; FrederickStock received one in 1941 and the Juilliardstring quartet in 1973. Mr. Menuhin alsogave a lecture-demonstration for members ofthe University.34patron of the Friends of Music and a supporting member of the Friends of the SmartGallery.Her late husband, Glen A. Lloyd, was alife trustee. He joined the board in 1953 andwas chairman from 1956 until 1963. He diedlast year.Edwin A. Bergman (ab'39) is president ofU. S. Reduction Company. Well known inChicago art circles, he is president of theMuseum of Contemporary Art and a boardmember of the Society for ContemporaryArt. A member of the University's CitizensBoard and of the Visiting Committees to theHumanities and the Art Department, he andhis wife made possible the Bergman Galleryin Cobb Hall.Mrs. Bergman (ab'39), the former BettyLindenberger, is a member of the University's Women's Board.Athletic front humsAfter a so-so autumn quarter, sports activityon the Midway really began to take off withthe beginning of 1976.Autumn was not all gloomy; the footballteam came through with a 41-20 win overMarquette to end its season. It was the firstMaroon win in three years, the 1972 victimlikewise having been the Hilltoppers.But as this publication went to press:The men's basketball team was 10 and 2,for an average of .883, and the maleswimmers also were moving at an .883 clip asthis issue went to press. The women's basketball team was 6-2 for .750 and the varsitytrack men were 4-2 for .667. Maroongymnasts were .461 , followed by thewomen's varsity swimmers, with .416; thewrestlers, with .200, and the winless fencers.• Off the field of battle major events alsowere transpiring. Wally Hass, who has beenchairman of the Department of PhysicalEducation and director of athletics sincefootball returned to Chicago in 1969, retired.• Joseph Stampf (ab'41) resigned as basketball coach; he will continue to be active inthe department. The onetime Chicago starhad worked with Maroon quintets foreighteen years. The new coach is JohnAngelus, who has been mentor of varsitybaseball, as well as Stampf's assistant inbasketball. Mike Klingensmith (ab'75), agraduate student in business, will assist Mr.Angelus.• And Chicago has formalized its athleticCORRECTIONIn the Winter, 1975, issue, the time ofthe Chicago showing of the treasuresfrom the tomb of King Tutankhamenwas erroneously given as the spring of1976. The correct date will be spring,1977. relationships by joining the Midwest Collegiate Athletic Conference as of next fall.The conference includes Lake Forest, Monmouth, Knox, Beloit, Ripon, Lawrence,Carleton, Coe, Grinnell, and Cornell College— many of them institutions with which theMaroons have been competing on aninformal basis. The membership is on a trialbasis for the next two years.• While all these developments have beentaking place, a sport startlingly new to theMidway has emerged, thus far on aninformal footing — crew. A group of womenstudents have organized a team which hasscheduled a series of competitions beginningin April. The magazine will be keeping aneye on this phenomenon.Campus mourns faculty deathsHannah Arendt, formerly professor in theCommittee on Social Thought, and since1967 associated with the New School forSocial Research, died December 4.Leon Carnovsky (pfiD'32), professoremeritus in the Graduate Library School,died in California December 6.Arthur Heiserman (ab'48, am'51, phr>'59),professor in the Department of English andthe College and co-editor of Critical Inquiry,died December 9 at the age of 46.FredB. Millett (p1id'31), a member of theDepartment of English faculty from 1 926 to1937, more recently a faculty member As readers may recall, they cut down the oldtree in front of the erstwhile Woodworth 'sbookstore (now O'Gara's), on which generations of students had attached notices ofvarious sorts. Now, however, a new tree hasbeen planted; until it reaches maturity thenotices are tacked to a framework whichencloses it.emeritus at Wesleyan University, diedJanuary 1 .Napier Wilt (am'21, p1id'23), professoremeritus in the Department of English andformer dean of the Division of theHumanities, died November 12.While the faculty was attending the annual trustees' dinner in January, wives of facultymembers and trustees held their annual original musical show at the Quadrangle Club. Thisyear's presentation, "1776 and All That: Some Significant but Neglected Aspects of theParticipation of Women in the Growth of America, " included the revelation that afterColumbus' graduation from the Ferdinand and Isabella School of Marketing and Transportation he was given three little boats and a trip abroad as a graduation gift. Shown here atdress rehearsal are Lee Cunningham, Paula Woods and Joan Matlaw in a skit on how JohnSmith was imprisoned by the Indians after he turned their villages into condominiums.WHPK at 30One night last December a benign-appearing, middle-aged man satat the microphone-cum-turntable in a Chicago FM radio studio andplayed four hours' worth of records by Glenn Miller, Hal Kemp,Billie Holliday, Eddie Condon, the Andrews sisters, Charlie Barnett,and, as they say, a host of other performers of the 1940s.Two things made this an unusual event.In the first place the man was Ned Rosenheim (ab'39, am'46,phD'53). He most definitely is not a disc jockey; as Edward W.Rosenheim, Jr., he is professor in the Department of English and theCollege and editor of Modern Philology.In the second place Mr. Rosenheim was holding down a chairwhich ordinarily is occupied by one or another of a goodly numberof University of Chicago students. The chair is located in theMitchell Tower studio of WHPK (88.3 megahertz), the student-runstation on the quadrangles.The reason for the unaccustomed presence of Ned Rosenheim inthe studio was that WHPK was celebrating its thirtieth birthday. Inan effort to recall, somehow, its programing of 1945, the station hadasked a member of a generation which was around at that time to dothe job (most of the students, obviously, had not even been bornwhen the music was popular).Originally WUCB, a carrier-current AM station, WHPK becamean FM station in 1967, and it is a most unusual one. Its roster ofon-the-air personalities, through its twenty-four-hour seven-days-a-week schedule totals seventy-five students, each of whom also sharesin studio chores.The station broadcasts a couple of hours of public service programing daily, including taped faculty discussions, campus news, aChinese hour, and a Saturday morning children's show by lab schoolstudents. Its classical music encompasses both traditional andmodern, and in addition it presents, at one time or another in the Veteran program director Jane Ginsburg, a -humanities student inthe College,' takes her turn on the air.course of the week, virtually every form of popular music — fromjazz to folk to rock to country. The station formerly offered sportscoverage, but has dropped this — temporarily, at least, because itcan't afford the phone company's line charges.WHPK's classical programing picked up markedly in the pastyear as the result of a remarkable gift from the parents of the lateDr. Dirk DeYoung (ab'56, sb'59, md'63), who before his death, at38, was staff physician at the University Health Services. The giftconsisted of Dr. DeYoung's collection of 4,000 records, mostlyclassical.The 15-watt station reaches an area within an eight-mile radius ofits Pierce Tower transmitter, and it carries no commercial advertising. The station is funded out of the Student Government budgetplus its own money raising activities — a $30,000 effort whichincludes the work of a faculty committee headed by that faithfulfriend of the station, Ned Rosenheim, and Paul Sally, professor ofmathematics. Entering its fourth decade it hopes for further technical progress; it would like to go stereo.^Alumni V^(ewsClass notesryy in MEMORiAM:Willard Hayes Garrett,*J" x'02, former vice-president and chairman of the mathematics department at BakerUniversity (Baldwin, Ks.), died September16, 1975, in Baldwin.f\'J in memoriam: Roberta Kohnhorst*¦'-' Klemm, x'03, Louisville, Ky.,composer, poet, teacher, died August 8,1975. She is survived by her son, Edward G.Klemm, Jr., p1ib'32.f\C in memoriam: Violet Millis, phB'05,^•^ emeritus teacher in the LaboratorySchools, died November 1, 1975.06 in memoriam: Henry P. Chandler,id'06, former English teacher, debating coach and secretary to PresidentWilliam Rainey Harper at UC during the1900s, noted attorney, first director of theadministrative office of the United StatesCourts (1939-'56), died December 12, 1975,in Bethesda, Md.; Allan James Ross, x'06,died July 11, 1975; Marion KelloggRuffcom, ab'06, died August 23, 1975, inWhittier, Ca.(YJ FREDERICK LUEHRING, PhM'07, has^ ' remained active in many capacitiessince his official retirement in 1953 from aforty-three-year career in higher education,but the favorite pastime of the 94-year-oldcontinues to be hiking. Luehring, a footballplayer under Amos Alonzo Stagg while atChicago, recently added considerable yard age to his lifetime trekking total when he leda "march-a-thon" for the March of Dimes.Almost twelve years ago, when he was 82,Luehring, of Swarthmore, Pa., became theoldest man to complete the 2,025-mile Appalachian Trail, although that record hassince been broken by ernest j. morris,pIib'15, who accomplished the feat lastspring at 86 (as recounted in the last issue ofthe magazine). Luehring 's career ineducation began in 1906 at Ripon College,where he was a coach and professor ofsociology. He went on to become water poloand basketball coach at Princeton and headof physical education at the University ofPennsylvania. He served for thirty years aschairman of the NCAA rules committee forswimming and water polo and, during the'30s, was secretary of the Olympic swimmingcommittee. He was inducted into theInternational Swimming Hall of Fame in1972.in memoriam: Arnold Jordan Wilson,pIib'07, former president of the La Salle (II.)National Bank and president and director of36Charles Boand Boand heads Association,succeeding JacksonCharles W. Boand (ro'33, mba'57), of Barrington, Illinois, apartner in the Chicago law firm of Wilson and Mcllvaine, has beenelected president of the Alumni Association Cabinet. He is a formerpresident of the Law School Alumni Association.Mr. Boand succeeds Julian Jackson (phB'31), owner of the JulianJackson Agency in Chicago.Three vice-presidents were also elected:Edward L. Anderson (pIib'46, sm'49), of Tweedy, Browne andKnapp, New York, and a resident of Princeton, New Jersey.Ann Collar Broder (ab'48, am'51) of Arlington, Virginia, chairman of the Arlington school board. (She is the wife of David Broder[ab'47, am'51], columnist for the Washington Post.)Bernard J. Del Giorno (ab'54 and '55, mba'55), of the securitiesfirm of Paine, Webber, Jackson & Curtis, Chicago. A/Julian JacksonGeneral Time Corporation in New York,died October 21, 1975, in Woodbury, Ct.11 in memoriam: Vallee O. Appel, phB'll,jd'14, president and board chairman ofthe First National Bank of Highland Park,II., former president of the AlumniAssociation, winner of an alumni citation forpublic service (1945) and member of theCitizens' Board, died November 10, 1975, ina Deerfield (II.) nursing home; Winfred M.Atwood, sm'11, phx>'13, retired Oregon StateUniversity botanist, died June 19, 1975, in Corvallis, Or.; Bernice LeClaire Ballard,pIib' 1 1 , English and history teacher atDavenport (la.) High School from 1916 to1931, died September 25, 1975; Lewis ElbernMeador, phB' 1 1 , civic leader, professoremeritus of economics and political scienceat Drury College, Springfield, Mo., diedNovember 14, 1975.1-5 VIRGINIAHINKINSBUZZELL,PhB'13, and¦*¦ "¦' her husband Edgar, report the celebration of their sixtieth wedding anniversarythis past October. The festivities began at theTribute to Hedwig LoebFriends of Mrs. Clarence L. Loeb(phB'02) and members of the Universityattended a luncheon in her honor at theUniversity as 1975 drew to a close. Bornin 1883, Hedwig Loeb was an outstanding student; she was one of theearliest members of the Midway chapterof Phi Beta Kappa and was graduated at19. Following her graduate work at theUniversity she assisted Jane Addams atHull House and conducted classes at theMaxwell Street Settlement from 1904until 1912, when she was married to thelate Dr. Clarence Loeb and began todevote herself to rearing a family.Long an active member of the AlumniAssociation, she has also busied herselfwith United World Federalists (of whichshe holds the unique title of honoraryvice-president); Roosevelt University,which named a scholarship in her honor;and half a dozen other organizations."We hold Mrs. Loeb in great esteem," Mrs. Loeb with Dean Oxnard.said Dr. Charles Oxnard, dean of theCollege, who presided at the presentation of some University memorabilia toMrs. Loeb, "for her ability to make themost of life, both in quality and inquantity." couple's summer farm in Delavan Lake, Wi.,with a "pumpkin party" and potluck spread,enjoyed by over 200 friends, neighbors andrelatives. Several days later, when theBuzzells returned to their winter home inWhitewater, Wi., they were greeted by some150 local residents at a reception.H in memoriam: Mary E. Maver, sb'14,A" PhD '26, retired cancer researcher withthe National Institutes of Health, died inNovember, 1975, in Bethesda, Md.; OttoWander, phB'14, supervisor in the OakForest service of the Cook County Department of Public Aid from 1928 to 1961 and ahumanitarian who was active in the peacemovement, died October 27, 1975, at hishome in Chicago.1 C COLLEEN BROWNE KILNER, PnB'15,*^ Evanston, II., has been cited by theIllinois State Historical Society "fordevotion and service to the local historymovement in Illinois through many years ofcollecting, writing, and disseminating thehistory of the Kenilworth area. ' 'in memoriam: Joseph H. Chivers, sb'15,md'17, retired physician, died October 4,1975, at his home in San Diego, Ca.; NathanR. Levin, phB'15, former assistant librarianand financial secretary of the Chicago PublicLibrary, where he was employed for nearlysixty years, died November 18, 1975, inMiami Beach, FL; Roy W. Williams, x'15, aretired employee of the Union CampCorporation, Trenton (N. J.) packagingfirm, died November 17, 1975, in Princeton,N.J.1 /: m memoriam: Clara McNeil Brown,1U am'16, Tucson, Az., died in July, 1974;Mildred Hunt, am'16, p1id'24, professor37emeritus of mathematics at Illinois WesleyanUniversity, died December 14, 1975, in St.Petersburg, Fl.IT in memoriam: Dorothy B. Hammett,*¦ ' phB' 17, a member of the Latin Schoolof Chicago faculty for thirty-seven years,died October 27, 1975, in Chicago; MildredLender Nauman, ab'17, Mountain View,Ca., died August 9, 1975; Winifred S.Nichol, phB' 17, retired Highland Park (II.)public school teacher, died October 10, 1975,in Evanston; Tage Joranson, id' 17, Chicagoattorney, died October 19, 1975; Earl L.Symes, x'17, retired sugar chemist and salesengineer, died October 12, 1975, in NewOrleans.1 O in memoriam: Marion Barton Burchard1 ° Bradish, pItb'18, Granada Hills, Ca.,who was elected to Pi Delta Phi in hercampus days, died last fall.i Q in memoriam: Helen Cecelia Beebe* ¦* Gaebler, ab'19; Harvey A. Simmons,sb' 19, sm'22, phD'25; Walfred I. Wallgren,phB'19.*y(\ in memoriam: James F. Curry, md'20,^* general practitioner and examiningphysician for the Illinois Central Gulf Railroad for more than fifty years, died October28, 1975, in Chicago; Henry Broadus Jones,am'20, phD'24, professor emeritus of Englishat Wake Forest University (Winston-Salem,N. C), died October 16, 1975; GertrudeKohnhorst, p1ib'20, am'22, died December31, 1974.T1 rachel brown, sm'21, phx>'33, and^ *¦ her colleague Dr. Elizabeth Hazen,recently named winners of the chemicalpioneer award of the American Institute ofChemists, are the first women ever to bechosen for that honor. The two were co-developers of the fungus-fighting chemicalmystatin, which, in recent years, has foundmany applications. It is currently being usedto keep bananas and livestock feed fromspoiling. In 1966, after the Arno Riverflooded Florence, Italy, it was effectivelyused to remove mold from priceless muralsand manuscripts that had been inundated.Brown retired from her job as a researchbiochemist with the New York health department in 1968.in memoriam: Arthur Anderson, phB'21 ,jd'23, jsd'36, who retired in 1967 fromDePaul University (Chicago) after more thanthirty years on the law school faculty, diedJanuary 6 in Fort Lauderdale, Fl.; OlgaMeloy Carter, am'21 , Houston, Tx., diedOctober 13, 1975; Harald G. O. Hoick,sb'21 , phD'28, professor emeritus of pharmacology at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, died October 12, 1975; JudithWallen Hunt, sb'21 , sm'25, Washington,D. C, died January 10, 1974.^>} in memoriam: Adolph George Ensrud,¦^ am'22; C. Harve Geiger, phB'22;William B. Gubbins, x'22; William M.McMillan, sb'22, md'26; John F. O'Toole,LLB'22. 0"2 J- brooks heckert, am'23, financier"^ and retired business professor, washonored by Simpson College, Indianola, la.,last year when an old building, which is beingrenovated to house the business department,thanks to the gifts of Heckert's formerstudents, was renamed and dedicated in hishonor. Heckert served as head of theSimpson department of economics andbusiness administration for five years duringthe twenties. He left there to teach in thecollege of commerce at Ohio State Universityfor thirty-one years, but for the past halfcentury he has kept in contact with the sixty-five business majors he taught at Simpson.Heckert, the author of six business textbooksand a romantic novel, lives in UpperArlington, Oh.in memoriam: Charles B. Congdon, sb'23,md'27, retired Chicago physician, and at onetime a member of the University's studenthealth staff, died January 3 in Hinsdale, II.;Leigh Hoadley, phr>'23, Cambridge, Ma.,professor of zoology emeritus at HarvardUniversity, died November 7, 1975; AliceScannell, sb'23, am'39, former teacher ofcommercial law, physics and mathematics atGage Park High School, Chicago, diedrecently in Chicago.^A m memoriam: Walter F. Briody,^~* phB'24, jd'26, attorney, died October24, 1975, in Blue Island, II.; Felix M. Jansey,sb'24, md'29, Oak Brook, II., senior attending general surgeon at NorthwesternMemorial Hospital, Chicago, died October25, 1975; Harry C. Thayer, p1ib'24, LagunaHills, Ca., died November 30, 1975; CharlesS. Thomas, jd'24, Rockford (II.) attorney,died September 26, 1975.1C in memoriam: Alan R. Blackmer,^*-' am'25, retired English teacher and deanof the faculty at the Phillips Academy,Andover, Ma., died November 1, 1975, at hishome in New London, N. H.; EugeneExman, am'25, Barnstable, Ma., author,former vice-president of the religious booksdepartment and archivist/historian ofHarper & Row, New York publishers, diedOctober 10, 1975; Samuel M. Levin, am'25,professor and chairman emeritus of theeconomics department, Wayne State University (Detroit), author, Jewish and communityaffairs leader, died October 2, 1975, inDublin, Ireland, while on a world tour;Raymond E. Morgan, phB'25, db'32,phr>'35, professor emeritus of philosophy atLynchburg (Va.) College, died December 19,1975; Annie M. Popper, am'25, phr>'30,retired history professor at Florida StateUniversity, died July 6, 1975, in WinterPark, FL; Robert C. Scarf, am'25, pIid'32,associate professor emeritus of education atBall State University (Muncie), diedSeptember 19, 1975, at a nursing home inWalkerton, In.i^r. IN memoriam: Clifton J. Ecklund,i£0 pItb'26, retired former president andchairman of the board and a founder of theThermolyne Corporation, Dubuque,la., died September 9, 1975, in Fort Myers,Fl. ^H JAMES B. GRIFFIN, PhB'27, AM'30," ' professor and chairman of anthropology at the University of Michigan, washonored on his 70th birthday and retirementfrom administrative duties at a MidwestArcheological Conference, held last fall inAnn Arbor. During the meeting six leadingmidwestern archeologists presented papers ata symposium entitled "A Research Tributeto James B. Griffin."in memoriam: John Harold Caesar,phB'27, am'31, civic and church leader,educator, editor for the MichiganAssociation of Retired School Personnel forhis last three years, died December 11, 1975,in Muskegon, Mi.; B. Baldwin Dansby, x'27,president emeritus of Jackson (Ms.) StateUniversity, died November 20, 1975; JacobT. Pincus, phB'27, jd'29, Chicago attorneyfor almost forty years until his retirement toLaguna Beach, Ca., in 1971 , where he wroteplays and a syndicated column for nineteenCalifornia newspapers, died November 12,1975, while on a cruise liner off NewZealand; Ethel Marjorie Weiss Rattner,phB'27, Chicago, died July 26, 1975.OQ in memoriam: Ruth Crum Knudten,¦"^ am'28, pioneer missionary in Japanwith her husband, the late Rev. Arthur C.Knudten, am'28, died October 6, 1975, inLaguna Hills, Ca. Rev. Knudten precededher in death on December 9, 1974.Mary Ann Heerey Cucich, phB'28,Riverside, II., died July 11, 1975.Otto Oplatka, pItb'28, jd'29, Berwyn (II.)attorney, died October 16, 1975, in Chicago.^Q The Blazing Dawn, a historical novel^"¦* on the Texas Revolution by james w.burke, x'29, Dallas, was published last yearby Pyramid. "I have treated Crockett,Travis, Bowie and company first asmortals," writes Burke, "then as heroes."After serving as an Army test pilot duringWorld War II Burke covered the NurembergTrials as a war correspondent for Esquiremagazine and has lectured widely on thesubject. He served as public relations adviserto Gen. Lucius D. Clay when Clay wasmilitary governor for occupied Germany. Asa staff correspondent for the IndianapolisNews, he covered the Berlin blockade andthirteen years later witnessed the building ofthe Berlin Wall.in memoriam: Clayton F. Hogeboom,md'29, Baker (Mt.) physician, died August25, 1975; George W. Ritteman, md'29,retired radiologist, died December 5, 1975, inFranklin, In."3r\ in memoriam: Albert Ralph Brosi,J " sb'30, phD'38, senior research staffmember of the chemistry division, Oak Ridge(Tn.) National Laboratory, at the time of hisretirement in 1972, died November 3, 1975,in Oak Ridge.Selma G. Lagergren, p1ib'30, retired missionary and former supervisor of the kindergarten department, Central PhilippinesUniversity, died November 27, 1975, in St.Petersburg, Fl. She was the daughter of the38late Carl G. Lagergren who, as professor (inthe Swedish division) of systematic theologyand pastoral duties, was one of UC's originalfaculty members.-51 FLORENCE E. PETZEL, PnB'3 1 , AM'34,•^ •*¦ recently retired as professor anddepartment head at Oregon State University,a position she held for fifteen years. She willremain in Corvallis, Or., where she plans towrite about textiles and home furnishing."3 *y jack l. hough, sb'32, sm'34, pho'40,-'^ has been designated professor emeritusof geology and oceanic science at theUniversity of Michigan, where he has been afaculty member since 1964. Hough receivedan honorary doctorate of science fromWestern Michigan University in 1969 inrecognition of his work in the fields ofgeology and oceanography and particularlyfor his study and writings concerning thegeology and origin of the Great Lakes.in memoriam: Cecil C. Draa, md'32, diedOctober 24, 1975, in Chicago; SamuelMorgan, pIib'32, died December 30, 1975, inHighland Park, II."3 "3 DOROTHY KURGANS GOLDBERG, PnB'33,-* J Washington, is the author of a book, APrivate View of a Public Life, publishedrecently by Charterhouse Books, an affiliateof the David McKay Company.in memoriam: Kenneth G. Peterson, x'33;Leonard R. Sillman, sb'33, md'37; EttaScorup Ward, x'33.-3 A in memoriam: Abraham Aidenoff ,**" ab'34, New York, deputy director ofthe United Nations Statistical Office from1963 until last October, when he became itssenior technical adviser, died January 9;Charles L. Dunham, md'34, formerchairman of the division of biology andmedicine of the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission, who headed American researchefforts on the effects of radiation, and aformer assistant professor at UC, diedDecember 7, 1975, in Washington; MarjorieSaucerman Newman, sb'34, died November30, 1975, in Huntington, W. V.; ShirleyJacobson Schonthal, phB'34, Highland Park,II., died November 12, 1975; Sidney L.Simon, sb'34, pho'39, former physicist andsenior associate consultant with KensingtonManagement Consultants of Stamford, Ct.,who was once a group leader at ArgonneNational Laboratory, died November 26,1975, in Greenwich, Ct.; Paul E. Wenaas,phD'34, died September 18, 1975, inWhitewater, Wi."\fi HARRIET DUFRESNE HUDSON, AM'36,"^" PhD '50, who took early retirement lastAugust after twenty-two years as dean ofRandolph-Macon Woman's College, writesthat she "quite unexpectedly" accepted athree-year contract, effective October 6,1975, as provost and dean of the college,Saint Mary's College of Maryland.ROBERT H. EBERT, SB'36, MD'42, hasannounced his intention to step down from the deanship of Harvard medical school inJune, 1977. He will have held the post fortwelve years.in memoriam: John Emerson Davis,phD'36; William H. Stubbins, ab'36.10 ellis b. kohs, am'38, professor of-^ " music at the University of SouthernCalifornia, spent last July at the MacDowellColony in New Hampshire working on anopera based upon the play and short storyRhinoceros by Eugene Ionesco. His book,Musical Form, was released in February byHoughton Mifflin. Kohs is chairman of thecommittee arranging for a concert ofCalifornia music to be performed June 28 atthe Kennedy Center in Washington as part ofthe national bicentennial observance. Hisbook Music Theory (Oxford UniversityPress, 1961), is now in its seventh printing(vol. 1) and fifth printing (vol. 2) and ranksfourth among the fifty most widely used textsin this field. Recently publishedcompositions include his Sonata for SnareDrum and Piano and Three Greek Chorusesfor women's a cappella choir.in memoriam: John L. Cheek, PhD '38,former chairman of the religion departmentat Albion (Mi.) College, died October 20,1974; Frederick D. Moon, am*38, the firstblack to be elected president of theOklahoma City Urban League and the Boardof Education, died December 16, 1975.OQ ephraim spivek, ab'39, am'46, has*^ ^ assumed the executive directorship ofthe Jewish Federation of Sacramento, Ca. in memoriam: Orville S. Swank, ab'39,jd'41; William Trumbull, am'39.Af\ MADELINE LESSER MCCOY, AM'40,^-' has retired after a thirty-year teachingcareer in the community of Bradford, Pa.During her career she taught first and secondgrades and at the junior and senior highschool level. She was the debate coach atBradford high school from 1937 to 1958.MONRAD g. paulsen, ab'40, jd'42, John B.Minor professor and dean of the law schoolof the University of Virginia since 1 968, hasbeen appointed vice-president for legaleducation to develop Yeshiva University'snew Benjamin N. Cardozo school of law inNew York, scheduled to open next fall.in memoriam: Vera Schroeder Fullmer,sb'40; Edward S. Kennedy, ab'40.a\ roberto. evans, ab'41, professor of" *¦ English and comparative literature atthe University of Kentucky, Lexington, anddirector of the university honors program,has been elected vice-president of theNational Collegiate Honors Council,national organization of some 500universities and colleges, and will assume thepresidency in 1977.EUNICE FELTER BOYER, AM'41 , advises USthat she has completed her doctorate inanthropology at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and is presently chairman of thedepartment of sociology and anthropology atCarthage College, Kenosha, Wi. Herhusband, merle boyer, p!id'40, continues aschairman of the Carthage philosophydepartment.Mr. Justice John Paul Stevens (as '41) is shown above as a new member of the SupremeCourt. Below, he is one of three noted alumni listening to testimony at his Senate confirmation hearing; flanking him are Senator Charles H. Percy (ab'41) and Attorney GeneralEdward H. Levi (vhB '32, jd '35). The new associate justice, whose selection reflects highhonor on his University, belongs to a family which has many ties to the Midway. He is theyoungest of four alumni sons of the late Ernest J. Stevens (phB'04) and Elizabeth StreetStevens (phB'05). His elder brothers are Ernest S. Stevens (vhB'29), Richard J. Stevens(ab'36, td'38), and William K. Stevens (am'40). Mr. Justice Stevens' legal degree is fromNorthwestern, but his few teaching efforts include a lectureship in constitutional law at theLaw School in 1954-'55.39"Of course, now I am too old to bemuch of a fisherman, and now ofcourse I usually fish the big watersalone, although some friends thinkI shouldn't. Like many fly fishermen in western Montana where thesummer days are almost Arctic inlength, I often do not start fishinguntil the cool of the evening. Thenin the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a beingwith my soul and memories and thesounds of the Big Blackfoot Riverand a four-count rhythm and thehope that a fish will rise.Eventually, all things mergeinto one, and a river runs throughit. . . . "^5^2§£And Other StoriesNorman Maclean"These are not, after all, simplynew short stories by an author whohas never before published fiction.Maclean has attempted somethingnew under the sun — short storiesthat are both compelling aestheticforms and impeccable historicaldocuments." — Wayne C. Booth1976 232 pages Cloth $7.95 > ORDER FORM ¦University of Chicago Press11030 S. LangleyAve.Chicago, 111.60628Please send me copy(ies) of ARiver Runs through It @ $7.95 each.Illinois residents add 5% sales tax.Name.AddressCity J5tate_ _Zip_ A*} john h. holmgren, x'42, assistant"¦" administrator, St. Joseph MedicalCenter, Wichita, Ks., is the author of a newprofessional manual, Purchasing for theHealth Care Facility (Springfield, II.:Charles C. Thomas, 1975).george b. pletsch, ab'42, jd'44, ParkRidge, II., an attorney with the Chicago lawfirm of Schiff, Hardin and Waite, waselected last year to the chairmanship of theboard of trustees at Millikin University,Decatur, II.in memoriam: Marjorie Jean Waldstein,ab'42, former secretary-treasurer of SheldonFactors, Inc., Chicago finance company,died November 12, 1975, in Evanston.A*l in memoriam: George R. Price, sb'43,¦^ pIid'46, died in London last April. Hehad been associated with the Galton laboratory, University College, London./\/\ BARBARA WENZELGnFILLAN CROWLEY,' ' ab'44, attorney, civic leader, environmentalist, has taken over as president of theUniversity of Chicago Club of Los Angelesafter serving a term as first vice-president.Crowley decided to enter law school severalyears ago, despite the demands of her activecivic life and large family (she and herhusband have six children). After four yearsof night school, she gained her degree fromLoyola University School of Law in 1974,graduating eighth in a class of 107, and iscurrently practicing tax, estate planning andprobate law with the Los Angeles firm ofVoegelin and Barton. A member of theboard of trustees of the Westridge School forGirls, she has been involved in PTA work fora number of years and was made anhonorary life member in 1966.A member of the board of trustees ofthe Descanso Gardens Guild, Inc., fromits inception in 1959 to the present, sheis currently serving on the finance andbuilding committees of the group, whichis devoted to the preservation, protection and enhancement of the DescansoGardens in La Canada, Ca. She was president of the guild in 1969-'74. She is currentlya member of the air-pollution sub-committeeof the Attorney General's Task Force onEnvironmental Protection and has beenactive in the League of Women Voters since1947.elwood v. jensen, pIid'44, professor inthe Department of Biophysics and Theoretical Biology and director of the Ben MayLaboratory for Cancer Research and theBiomedical Center for Population Researchat UC, served as honorary president of theSeventh Congress of the International StudyGroup for Steroid Hormones, held lastDecember in Rome.RUTH HOLLAND waddell, ab'44, and herhusband John, a noted sculptor who oncedid academic work at UC in connection withhis studies at the Art Institute of Chicago,have been involved for the past several yearsin operating the Waddell Sculpture Fellowship, a concept in architectural training inwhich the student apprentices actuallyparticipate in the work of building the studio-residence in which they live.Construction of the structure, located on aranch in Cornville, Az., began in 1970 withpresent plans calling for completion of themain studio of the complex before 1980.NANCY GOODMAN FELDMAN, AB'44, JD'46,has been compiling a history of women inOklahoma as part of a project she is directingon "Women in Oklahoma," sponsored bythe Governor's Commission on the Status ofWomen and the Oklahoma BicentennialCommission.ellis b. jump, PhD '44, has retired as professor and chairman of the department ofanatomy, school of dentistry, University ofOregon health sciences center, Portland. Afaculty member since 1947, Jump alsobecame a professor of anatomy at theUOHSC school of medicine in 1972. He hasbeen named to the emeritus faculty of theschool of dentistry.The Rev. wtlliam a. johnson, am'44,distinguished pastor and counselor andteacher of hundreds of clergymen, wasnamed "alumnus of the year" last fall by theDivinity School. Rev. Johnson, senior pastorof Saint John Church-Baptist, Chicago, forthe past thirty-five years, has served aspresident of the Church Federation ofGreater Chicago and the Interdenominational Ministers Alliance ofChicago, member of the board of trustees ofNorthern Baptist Theological Seminary,chairman of the Chicago YMCA's ProjectSupport, and board member of the ChicagoUrban League, the Chicago Commission onReligion and Race, and the Chicago BaptistAssociation. He is dean emeritus of theChicago Baptist Institute and an honorarymember of the board of the BaptistTheological Union.in memoriam: Chester A. Gilkerson,mba'44, died October 14, 1975, in a Charleston, II., nursing home.45 SHARON HARD PETRAITIS, PnB'45,Cedar Rapids, la., has returnedto school after a hiatus of thirty years andwill be graduated in art this May from MountMercy College in Cedar Rapids. Recently shewas nominated to appear in Who 's Whoamong Students in American Universitiesand Colleges, which she found "gratifying atthis stage of my life! "RITA MARCUS doppelt, sb '45, is now anassociate of the firm of Lakeside Realty inHighland Park and Northbrook, II.A/T JEWEL stradford lafontant, jd'46,^* former deputy solicitor general of theUnited States, has been elected a director ofContinental Illinois Corporation and itsprincipal subsidiary, Continental IllinoisNational Bank and Trust Company ofChicago. Lafontant, who resigned her position as deputy solicitor general last June toreturn to private law practice, is also adirector of Trans World Airlines.in memoriam: Claire ElizabethBartholomew, sb'46, Phoenix, Az., diedMay 16, 1975; Kathrin Pool White, am'46,Seattle, Wa., died December 18, 1975.40Fowling in the MarshesThe striking hunting scene above is a highly faithful copy of a tombpainting from the Thebes of the time of Tuthmosis IV and Amen-ophis III (1420-1375 b.c.) The painting is one of a group of 749 byNina M. Davies which, as readers of the magazine will recall, isbeing prepared for publication (at $500 a boxed set) by the OrientalInstitute. In this painting the tomb owner, one Nebamun, stands ona plank, aiming a throw-stick at birds flying up from the marsh. Behind him stands his wife, Hatshepsut, holding in her right hand asistrum (a percussion instrument roughly similar to a tambourine)and in her left a counterpoise. Nebamun 's daughter kneels below,holding her father's left leg, and picks a water flower. For moreinformation about the paintings, which are 18" x 24" , alumni maywrite to the Oriental Institute, 1155 E. 58th Street, Chicago, Illinois60637.AH h. Robert gemmer, db'47, St. Peters-" ' burg, Fl. , clergyman and civic worker,and his wife Myrna spent forty-five days inAfrica late last year on a trip which includedvisits to Liberia, Nigeria, Zaire, Tanzania,Ethiopia and Kenya. During their stay inKenya the Gemmers attended the fifthassembly of the World Council of Churches,held November 23 to December 10 inNairobi. In January they took off for LatinAmerica on a church-sponsored study tour.june biber freeman, pfiB'47, sb'49, Pine Bluff, Ar., has become director of the stateservices program of the Arkansas ArtsCenter, which takes programs in the visualand performing arts on tour.Freeman helped establish and served as thefirst director of the Little Firehouse Community Art Center in Pine Bluff. She hasbeen chairman of the board of the SoutheastArkansas Art and Science Center, and in1973 originated and coordinated a Conference of Women in the Arts which includedan invitational exhibition of art and crafts by Arkansas women.JAMES GOLDMAN, PnB'47, AM'50,playwright, novelist, was married to BarbaraDeren October 25, 1975, in New York. Goldman received an Academy Award in 1968 forthe screen adaptation of his play, The Lion inWinter, and is co-author, with his brotherWilliam, of the play, Blood, Sweat andStanley Poole.in memoriam: Stanislaus E. Basinski,sb'47; William B. Gates, Jr., am'47, pho'47;Charles W. Laughton, Jr., am'47.AQ WILLIAM A. pryor, PhB'48; sb'51, was° the recipient of the American ChemicalSociety's Southwest chemist award at theMemphis ACS meeting in November, 1975.Pryor has written nine books which havebeen translated into seven languagesincluding Russian and Japanese. His newestcontributions are Volumes I and II of FreeRadicals in Biology (Academic Press, 1976).GERALD B. GREENWALD, AB'48, JD'51,joined the Washington, D. C, law firm ofArent, Fox, Kintner, Plotkin & Kahn lastMay as a partner in the firm's internationalgroup working mainly in the areas ofmaritime law and finance. About the sametime he became president-elect of theNational Health Council, a non-profitassociation of the major professional organizations and voluntary agencies in the healthfield.CATHARINE MARY CONRADI, AM'48, Goulds-boro, Me., has been designated by the Intercontinental Biographical Association as thesubject of a "North American profile," to bepublished in the 1976 edition of the WorldWho's Who of Women, "for past accomplishments and an enounced philosophyof learning applying worldwide."EDWARD L. HENRY, AM'48, MBA'48, PhD'55,vice-president for institutional developmentat St. John's University, Collegeville, Mn.,has been elected president of St. Michael'sCollege, a Catholic liberal arts and sciencescollege in Colchester, Vt. On leave ofabsence from St. John's, Henry waspresident of St. Mary's College (NotreDame, In.) from 1972 until July, 1975. Hewas mayor of St. Cloud, Mn., from 1964 to1970.GEORGE AN AST APLO, AB'48, JD'51, PtlD'64,has won the 1975 Harry Kalven freedom ofexpression award from the American CivilLiberties Union, Illinois division. Anastaplo,lecturer in the liberal arts at UC and professor of political science and philosophy,Rosary College, has been serving as researchdirector and advisor for the IllinoisGovernor's Commission on IndividualLiberty and Personal Privacy.EVELYN EIGELBACH ROBINSON, AB'48,am'51, Hammond, La., has been appointedassistant professor of education atSoutheastern Louisiana University. Shereceived her doctorate in education from theUniversity of Michigan in 1974.DONALD OSTERBROCK, PhB'48, SB'48,sm'49, pIid'52, director of Lick Observatory of the University of California, SantaCruz, has published a book on Astrophysicsof Gaseous Nebulae, a subject he beganstudying on the Midway nearly thirty yearsago.IRVING s. bengelsdorf, sm'48, PhD'51,director of science communications at theCalifornia Institute of Technology, receivedthe distinguished alumnus award lastNovember from the University of ChicagoClub of Los Angeles.Former science editor of the Los AngelesTimes, Bengelsdorf is currently sciencecolumnist and contributing editor for Enterprise Science News. He is the author of a 1| **p^H s ¦l||3yl <f^m£/*MM£ W^JiP' jf'fc >-•George L. Hecker (vh.B'31, td'33) presentsplaque to Mr. Bengelsdorf.book, Spaceship Earth: People andPollution.in memoriam: Procter Thomson, am'48,PhD'51, former associate professor ofeconomcs at Claremont (Ca.) Men's College,died January 27, 1975.AQ peter selz, am'49, p1id'54, professor¦^ of the history of art, University ofCalifornia, Berkeley, has organizedBerkeley's bicentennial exhibition, "TheAmerican Presidency in Political Cartoons,1776-1976," which will be seen at the Davidand Alfred Smart Gallery of the Universityof Chicago in May and June. Selz, whosemost recent major publication is a book onSam Francis (Abrams, 1975), has accepted avisiting professorship at the HebrewUniversity of Jerusalem.frank s. chase, pIib'49, am'66, has beenpromoted to associate professor of sociologyat Susquehanna University, Selinsgrove, Pa.william b. todd, pIid'49, was accordedthe honorary degree of doctor of humaneletters by Lehigh University (Bethlehem, Pa.)last fall and also became the first recipient ofthe Marc Fitch prize in bibliography, a goldmedal now established as an internationalaward by the Institute of Bibliography andTextual Criticism at the University of Leeds(England). Todd, professor of English at theUniversity of Texas at Austin, is the authorof some 230 publications.CQ Portrait of the Artist Painting HerJyj Son, a new volume of poetry by jamesl. wEtt, ab'50, has been published by theSparrow Press, West Lafayette, In. Weil,New Rochelle, N. Y. , recently won a $5 ,000 National Endowment for the Arts award forhis "contribution to American letters."FREDERICK O. GEARING, AB'50, AM'53,pIid'56, began a three-year term last September as chairman of the anthropologydepartment of the State University of NewYork at Buffalo. Gearing, whose researchinterests have centered on the application ofanthropology to the study of Americaneducation, village life in modern Greece, andAmerican Indian culture, is the author ofThe Face of the Fox, a 1970 book on the FoxIndians of the Midwest.Two distinguished Chicago alumnae werehonored last fall at the annual dinner of theSchool of Social Service AdministrationAlumni Association. Receiving 1975 SSAalumni citations were janet gray frazeehayes, am'50, mayor of San Jose, Ca., "forexcellence in service to her community," andmarcial burroughs, am '51, "for a distinguished career in public welfare administration." Hayes was elected to the San JoseCity Council in 1 97 1 , vice mayor in 1 973 ,and mayor in 1975 — the first woman mayorof the city and the first woman to be electedmayor of a city of more than 500,000population. Burroughs has served successively as a Shawnee County (Ks.) caseworker, supervisor of certification in theKansas Department of social Welfare, fieldrepresentative of the department and supervisor of its field services, and as its assistantdirector. She now interviews social workapplicants for the Kansas Civil Commission.Advice to Divers, an illustrated volume ofpoems, songs and hymns by harry fisher,ab'50, jd'53, public relations director atStemmler, Fisher & Associates, St. Louisadvertising agency, has been published byArchway Publications (317 N. 11th St., Suite814, St. Louis, Mo. 63101). Several UCpeople are mentioned in Fisher's dedications,including a number of former teachers andmarjorie elder, phD'63, who arranged forFisher's poetry reading appearances on theMarion (In.) College campus last October.C 1 Thimble Treasury, by myrtle"'A lundquist,p1ib'51, am'63, Wilmette,II., was released in December by the Wallace-Homestead Book Company, Des Moines, la.Her Book of a Thousand Thimbles (Wallace-Homestead, 1970), the first work ever published devoted exclusively to the subject ofthimbles, is now in its third printing. She hasheld varied positions in the field ofjournalism from working on a small townnewspaper and writing a column to editing acompany publication for the Federal ReserveBank of Chicago.gene balsley, ab'51, is now associateeditor of Training, the magazine of manpower and management development, basedin New York.Since leaving the Midway, Laurencereich , ab ' 5 1 , jd ' 5 3 , has been engaged in thepractice of law with the firm of Carpenter,Bennett & Morrissey, Newark, N. J., ofwhich he is now a senior partner. Althoughoriginally specializing in labor law, Reich hasbeen the principal tax partner of the firm for42some fifteen years. He has been active in theAmerican Bar Association section ontaxation.barry d. karl, am'51, professor in theDepartment of History and the College atUC, participated in a taped discussion of"The Presidency, Past and Present," whichwas broadcast late last year by the Voice ofAmerica, U. S. international short waveradio service. The other participant wasgeorge reedy, ab'38, dean of the MarquetteUniversity school of journalism and formerpress secretary to President Lyndon B.Johnson.C'y ROBERT h. march, ab'52, sm'55,-^ phD'60, professor of physics at theUniversity of Wisconsin, Madison, has wonthe $1 ,500 American Institute of Physics-United States Steel Foundation sciencewriting award in physics and astronomy for1975. March is the eighth scientist to win theprize which is offered for "noteworthywriting about physics and astronomy in themedia of mass communications , ' ' and is theonly person to receive the prize twice. (Hefirst won in 1971 .) March won the prize forhis article, "The Quandary over Quarks,"published by Science Year, a Field Enterprises Educational Corporation annualpublication. March's major research interestis the study of weak interactions, particularlytests of time reversal invariance, and he iscurrently working on experiments at theNational Accelerator Laboratory at Batavia,II., and at the Stanford Linear AcceleratorCenter in California.zohra lampert, ab'52, can now be seenon television in the role of Dr. NorahPurcell, neurosurgeon, on NBC's "Doctors'Hospital," a weekly series starring GeorgePeppard which premiered last fall. Already asuccessful New York stage actress, Lampertmade the move to television recently andwon an Emmy for her portrayal of a gypsy inan episode of "Kojak." She also appearedlast spring in the Public BroadcastingSytstem production of "Ladies of theCorridor."c-3 t. aldrichfinegan, am'53, pIid'60,*' "^ professor of economics and chairmanof the department of economics and businessadministration at Vanderbilt University,Nashville, Tn., was cited by the school lastyear for excellence in classroom teaching.in memoriam; Marianne Rigsbey Baker,am'53, died July 7, 1975, in Lake Forest, II.She was learning center director andcoordinator of volunteer services at WayneThomas School in Highland Park, II.CA charlottaevans,am'54, received*^" her doctorate in leadership and humanbehavior last year at United States International University in San Diego. Herdissertation topic: "Conflicting Views ofMen and Women: by the New Biologists, theNew Feminists and as Human Beings." In1972-'74 Evans taught at the Sussex,England, campus of USIU and since September, 1974, has been assigned to the school's Nairobi, Kenya, campus, teachingsociology and psychology.lewis v. morgan, jr., jd'54, Wheaton, II.,a partner in the law firm of Morgan & VanDuzer, was elected to the bench of theDuPage County (II.) Circuit Court last Juneas an associate justice. A Republican,Morgan served as an assistant state'sattorney of DuPage County (1958-1961) andwas elected a justice of the peace in 1958. Hewas a representative to the Illinois state legislature (1963-1971), serving as house majorityleader in 1971.NORMAN E. PHILLIPS, PllD'54, wasappointed last year to the deanship of thecollege of chemistry, University of California, Berkeley. A member of Berkeley'schemistry faculty for over twenty years,Phillips is recognized as a leader in high precision measurement of heat capacities at lowtemperatures and also as an outstandingteacher.in memoriam: Willard Skolnick, sm'54,phD'58, died October 6, 1975.CC FRANCES MOTTEY BECK, AM'55, who-* *^ recently took the position of assistantto the dean, school of education, DePaulUniversity, Chicago, reports that though shemisses the valued relationships with students,staff and faculty at UC, where she had beenassistant dean of students and assistant secretary of the Graduate School of Educationand the Department of Education, respectively, since 1958, she has made a happytransition to DePaul and has discoveredseveral former UC people among her newcolleagues, john m. beck, am'47, p1id'53,continues as executive director of theChicago Consortium of Colleges and Universities.CHARLES T. HORNGREN, PhD'55, holder ofthe Edmund W. Littlefield accounting professorship in Stanford University's businessschool, has been elected president of theAmerican Accounting Association. He isserving as president-elect and member of thegroup's executive committee during thecurrent academic year and will be installed aspresident and chief executive officer for the1976-'77 academic year.barry targan, am'55, assistant directorof the Skidmore College university withoutwalls, Saratoga Springs, N. Y., announcesthe publication of his prize-winning HarryBelten and the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto(University of Iowa Press, 1975). A collection of fourteen short stories, the work wonTargan the $1 ,000 Iowa School of Lettersaward for short fiction for 1975. Targan,also a potter and private printer, hascontributed numerous poems, short storiesand essays to such magazines as Esquire,Saturday Review and the New Republic. Hisstories have also appeared in The BestAmerican Short Stories of 1974 and 1975.The author of Let the Wild Rumpus Start, heexpects to publish a second book of poemssoon.STANTON T. FRIEDMAN, SB'55, SM'56,Hayward, Ca., reports he has now presentedhis illustrated lecture, "Flying Saucers Are Real," at more than 300 colleges and universities in forty-five states. Friedman, whospent fourteen years working in industry withnuclear aircraft and rockets, fusion rocketsand nuclear power plants until 1959, when hedecided to devote himself full-time to theUFO question, has received much publicityin his effort to convince the public that theearth is being visited by intelligently controlled vehicles from space. He was technicaladviser to Universal Studios for their film,The UFO Incident, broadcast nationally byNBC-TV October 20, 1975.C/T mary l. sangree, am'56, is teaching•^ " sociology this year at the college of artsand science, State University of New York atGeneseo. A doctoral candidate at SUNYBuffalo, Sangree was a tutor at Empire StateCollege in Rochester, N. Y.SALVATORE G. ROTELLA, AM'56, PhD'71, hasbeen appointed president of the newly-established Chicago City- Wide Institute ofthe City Colleges of Chicago.CH In The Carthage Conspiracy: The Trial"^ ' of the Accused Assassins of JosephSmith (University of Illinois Press, $7.95),authors dallin h. oaks, jd'57, and marvin s.hill, p1id'68, retell the story of the Mormonprophet's death and the conspiracy which ledto it. They analyze the conflicts, religiousstrife, and strong feelings created byMormon/non-Mormon dissension andattempt to discover why a "respectable set ofmen" were able to commit murder withimpunity in this critical period in Mormonhistory. Oaks, president of Brigham YoungUniversity (Provo, Ut.) and a formerprofessor of law at UC, has written widely onlegal subjects. Hill, associate professor ofhistory at Brigham Young, is the author ofarticles and a book on Mormon history.CO sanfordn. katz, jd'58, professor of-^ law, Boston College Law School(Newton Centre, Ma.), is the editor of a newbook, Creativity in Social Work: SelectedWritings of Lydia Rapoport (Philadelphia:Temple University Press). Ms. Rapoport, aninternationally recognized scholar in socialwork and a pioneer in crisis intervention,short-term therapy and family planning, wason the faculty of the school of social welfareat the University of California when she diedin 1971 . She taught from time to time in theUniversity of Chicago School of Social Service Administration summer instituteprogram. Katz is the author of When ParentsFail: The Law's Response to Family Breakdown and The Youngest Minority: Lawyersin Defense of Children, and is editor-in-chief of the Family Law Quarterly.donald m. greer, jr., sb'58, has beennamed associate professor and head ofplastic and reconstructive surgery at the University of Texas health science center, SanAntonio. Dr. Greer, a specialist in the reconstructive surgery of cleft lip and cleft palate,formerly was assistant professor of plasticand reconstructive surgery at the Universityof Florida, Gainesville.43CQ charlotte adelman, ab'59, jd'62,"* ^ announces the opening of a Wilmette(II.) office in addition to her law offices at1 N. La Salle St., Chicago. Adelman is acandidate for nomination to the bench of theCircuit Court of Illinois, Cook CountyJudicial District, in the March 16 Democraticprimary. Although one of some thirty independents whose judicial petitions were challenged on a supposed technicality, Adelmanwill be on the ballot as the court ruled in herfavor and the challenge against her was disallowed.martin j. kozak, ab'59, Wilmette, II.,announces the birth of his first child, BradleyDaniel Ross, October 14, 1975.robert evans, jr., phx>'59, Atran Foundation professor of labor economics atBrandeis University, Waltham, Ma., hasbeen made dean of the college of arts andsciences. Evans taught at UC and at MITbefore his arrival at Brandeis in 1961 . Muchof his economics research has been centeredon Japan, and on two occasions he traveledthere to write and do research. He is theauthor of two books on economics: PublicPolicy towards Labor and The Labor Economics of Japan and the United States.C.r\ JUDITH VICTOR GRABINER, SB'60,^^ associate professor at the SmallCollege, the innovative division of CaliforniaState College, Dominguez Hills, reports herselection as the "outstanding professor" atCalifornia State College, Dominguez Hills,for the 1974-'75 academic year."I notice that you listed my two girls in the[winter issue of the magazine]," writes paulj. skinner, x'60, Galesburg, II. "In theinterest of completeness I want to list my twosons: Herbert K., born October 5, 1966, andRoger E ., born October 5 , 1 967 . ' 'fl 1 PATRICIA PLATT ROSENZWEIG, AB'61 ,*¦' is now vice-president in the Chicagooffice of Perkins & Will, architectural,engineering and planning firm.maryendres, am'61, universityvice-president of academic affairs anduniversity professor of early childhoodeducation at Governors State University(Park Forest South, II.), is taking an earlyretirement and will become vice-presidentemeritus, effective March 10.Cf\ earl j. ogletree, am'62, associate"£* professor of education, Chicago StateUniversity, reports the publication of hisbook, Education of the Spanish-SpeakingUrban Child (Charles C. Thomas, 1975).visro prachuabmoh, am'62, phD'66, professor and director of the institute of population studies, Chulalongkorn University(Bangkok, Thailand), has been elected deanof the graduate school there. Prachuabmohis a member of the United Nations Population Commission and the internationaladvisory committee of the PopulationInstitute of the East-West Center.louise kxnzie wornom, am'62, announcesthe birth of her first child, Laurel Marguerite, on November 24, 1975. Wornom is currently studying the Russian language atLoop Junior College in Chicago.C/l Pentatonic Sketches for Orchestra,"-^ composed by edmund dehnert,pIid'63, won a recent Chicago Festival of theArts competition, sponsored by the NorthSide Symphony Orchestra of Chicago undera grant from the Illinois Arts Council. Thework was premiered in the auditorium of theMuseum of Science and Industry onNovember 9, 1975.C.A richard l. mandel,ab'64, has been*-^* appointed principal of the MiquonSchool, an independent school for childrenin nursery through sixth grade in Miquon,Pa. Mandel and his wife alice norman,ab'64, live in Mount Airy, Philadelphia.robert l. oktn, ab'64, md'67, mentalhealth commissioner of Vermont since 1973,left that post last fall to become Massachusetts mental health commissioner.frank p. digiacomo, mba'64, has beennamed European fiscal officer for W. R.Grace Industrial Chemicals, Inc., at thefirm's European headquarters in Lausanne.f. C The photographs of gretchen"*^ garner, ab'65, Evanston, were onexhibit during the month of December at theARC Gallery in Chicago. Garner, instructorof photography at St. Xavier College,Chicago, has published articles and reviewsin the New Art Examiner, Chicago, Afterimage, Rochester, N. Y., and the ChicagoDaily News (all in 1975), as well as a portfolio of pictures in the WFMT Guide (May,1970). Her work is represented currently intwo travelling shows.eric hjrschhorn, ab'65, writes that he hasbecome counsel to the subcommittee ongovernment information and individualrights", U. S. House of Representatives.CINDY SPINDEL WEISFIELD, AB'65, hasrecently been appointed an instructor at WestChester (Pa.) State College. This follows oneyear studying for teaching credits at the University of Maryland, four years teaching firstgrade in Rensselaer, N. Y., one and one-half years teaching a learning disabilitiesclass in a suburb of Pittsburgh, receipt of anM.Ed, degree in reading and language artsfrom the University of Pittsburgh, and twoyears teaching in a federally sponsoredreading program in Aurora, II. Cindy andher husband Michael now live near Philadelphia with their son Andrew, born inJanuary, 1975.sherwin w. lief, ab'65, am'67, formervice-consul in the American ConsulatGeneral in Frankfurt, Germany, has receivedhis law degree from Fordham University LawSchool, New York. "After graduation, barexams, and vacation, I returned to theForeign Service, but not overseas," writesLiff. "Instead, I joined the State DepartmentReception Center in New York, dealing withinternational visitors. However, effectiveDecember 1 [I left] government service tojoin the legal department of Diners Club,"based in New York. CjC alvtn vos, am'66, pho'71, a faculty"^ member at the State University of NewYork at Binghamton, was in Washingtonduring September and October, 1975, on aFolger Library fellowship, and in ChicagoNovember and December on a NewberryLibrary grant. Last summer he received aresearch grant from the SUNY system andwas winner of the chancellor's award for excellence in teaching at Binghamton last year.C/l philip m. lankford, ab'67, am'68,^ ' PhD ' 7 1 , has resigned from the UCLAfaculty to accept an appointment as researchplanner with the Association of Bay AreaGovernments, Berkeley, Ca. Lankford is incharge of a project to assess future healthcare needs in the San Francisco Bay regionand examine access barriers to minoritygroups and spatial problems of the healthcare delivery system.STEVEN G. KRAMER, AB'67, phD'71 , hasbecome professor and chairman of thedepartment of ophthalmology at the University of California, San Francisco schoolof medicine. Dr. Kramer, former chiefresident and instructor in ophthalmology atChicago, joined the UCSF medical staff in1973 at which time he was also named chiefof ophthalmology, Veterans AdministrationHospital, San Francisco.CX> penny asbell, sb'68, received her*JO medical degree from the StateUniversity of Buffalo (N. Y.) last year and istraining in internal medicine at the Yale-New Haven (Ct.) Medical Center.dennis h. chookaszian, mba '68, has beennamed vice-president and controller of CNAInsurance Companies and CNA FinancialCorporation, Chicago.park mcginty, am'68, p1id'72, has joinedthe faculty of Lehigh University (Bethlehem,Pa.) as assistant professor and actingchairman of the department of religionstudies.CX\ maleta pilcz, am'69, announces the"^ opening of her practice in individual,marital, family and group therapy and consultation, at 233 E. Erie, Chicago.mark holmes, pIid'69, formerly directorgeneral of the North Island Regional SchoolBoard in Quebec, has joined the OntarioInstitute for Studies in Education as coordinator of field development.k. george pedersen, pIid'69, has beennamed to the position of vice-president,University of Victoria, Victoria, BritishColumbia. Pedersen served the school asdean of education for three years.ellen silon, ab'69, has received hermaster's degree in child clinical psychologyand is a doctoral candidate at the Universityof Denver.JAMES e. buckheit, jr., ab'69, am'71,former resource teacher at Staples HighSchool in Westport, Ct., and psychologyinstructor at Housatonic CommunityCollege, Bridgeport, Ct., has been appointeddirector of the Common School, an inde-44FACES Portraiture is only one aspect of Mr. Weiss' work, as this oil painting of the Chicago skyline attests.When Edward H. Weiss (p1ib'22) entered the University he had already had his own"one-boy" show of paintings, held at the Art Institute of Chicago when he was 14.At the University he was art editor of an outstanding issue of Cap and Gown.Though his father was a pioneer in portrait photography, young Ed's parentsviewed without enthusiasm any notion that he might enter art as a career. He solvedthis problem by entering the advertising business, where he built a successful agency(now known as Lee King and Partners, though Ed Weiss remains board chairman)while continuing to paint — almost continuously — as an avocation.This spring an exhibition of the novel larger-than-life portraiture he has evolvedwill be held at the Center for Continuing Education on the Midway; it will be ahomecoming of sorts for Ed Weiss, except that he never really left. Among thescores of notables he has painted are many associated with the University — alumni,faculty, trustees.The campus exhibition will be merely the latest of many showings of his work —his pictures hang in galleries including the Lyndon B. Johnson Library and theNational Portrait Gallery of the Smithsonian Institution. And even while the exhibition at the University was in preparation, he was hard at work creating a new seriesof portraits, "Makers of Chicago," for another showing set for this summer at theChicago International Trade Exposition. f^V*5^Edward H. Levi,former president,now Attorney General of the UnitedStates. '*&/- fHarold Rosenberg,professor emeritus,Committee on SocialThought and the Department of Art.Dr. Morris Fishbein, Jarlath Graham, Joseph B. Kirsner, University hospitalssb '10, md '12, editor, ab '49, vp, Crain chief of staff and deputy dean, BiologicalMedical World News. Communications Inc. Sciences and Pritzker School of Medicine. Sidney R. Bernstein, mba '56, 1975 alumnuscommunicator of the year; executive committee chairman, Crain Communications.45pendent nursery and elementary school inAmherst, Ma. Buckheit and his wife,kathryn hollis roy, ab'69, live in Amherst.in memoriam: Marian Sue Grebin, ab'69,mba'70, a former financial analyst for TransWorld Airlines and later a businesseconomist for Chemical Bank, diedNovember 12, 1975, of cancer at her home inNew York. She was 28.Hf\ davtd J. kirby, pIid'70, is in his' ^ second year of medical school atMemorial University of Newfoundland,Canada. Kirby, who plans eventually topractice medicine on the Labrador coast, wasa senior research associate in the departmentof social relations at Johns Hopkins University from 1969 to '71 and taught in thedepartment of educational administration atMemorial from 1971 to '75. He is the coauthor, with ROBERT l. crain, p1td'63, ofPolitical Strategies in Northern SchoolDesegregation (Boston: D. C. Heath, 1973).terry l. heller, am'70, pIid'73, becameassistant professor of English at Coe College,Cedar Rapids, la., this past fall.n-t GEORGE LEE SPENCER, MAT'71, is' ¦*¦ teaching at Meharry Medical College(Nashville, Tn.) this year as an instructor ofeducational sciences in the department offamily and community health. Spencer isalso enrolled as a medical student atMeharry.MARTHA LOUISE SHILLENS, AB'71 , reportsher marriage to david beach, ab'70,November 26, 1974.richard kopp, am'71, pho'72, coordinator of theoretical curriculum and instruction at the California School of ProfessionalPsychology, Los Angeles, and assistantdirector of training and supervision at Mid-Valley Community Mental Health Councilin the San Gabriel valley, Los Angeles, hasjoined the editorial staff of the Journal ofIndividual Psychology as a consulting editor.Barbara waldman kopp, am'71, a therapistat Mid- Valley, is serving a term as presidentof the California Adlerian Society. TheKopps live in Whittier, Ca., with their twoyoung children, Carrie and David.david mark reid, ab'71 , mat'73, has beentraveling abroad since September, 1973,having so far hit Australia, New Zealand,Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, Nepal,India, Pakistan, Kenya, Tanzania, Zambia,Malawi and Rhodesia.michaei orsted, ab'71 , reports he graduated from the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary with a M. Div., wasordained into the ministry last summer, andis now serving the First Presbyterian Churchof Nelson, Ne. Rev. Orsted was married lastsummer to Linda Barthell.The Rev. Roberts, denig, MTh'71,DMn'72, has left his post as Episcopalchaplain at the University of Massachusettsto accept a call to be rector of All Saint'sChurch in South Hadley, Ma.iames Stanley rumack, ab'71 , graduatedfrom the Medical College of Wisconsin,Milwaukee, last year and is currently serving a medical residency in New Orleans.jacques le sourd, ab'71 , has been namedNew York drama critic for the Westchester(N. Y.) Newspapers. Le Sourd, a staff writerwith the Daily Times of Mamaroneck (N. Y.)since 1973, is retaining that position whileassuming his duties as WRN critic of theBroadway and off-Broadway stages.in memoriam: Charles D. Hawley, ab'71, agraduate student in applied physics at Stanford University, was accidentally electrocuted October 26, 1975, while working ona laboratory experiment involving gasdynamic lasers.H'J susan gail loth, ab'72, is at sea' ^ aboard a 38' trimaran which she andsix friends built over a four-year period.Loth, who quit her job as a Winona (Mn.)newspaper reporter, set sail in mid-October,heading down the Mississippi River towardthe Caribbean on a one-year cruise. She isformer managing editor of the Maroon.Walter evans, p1id'72, as winner of aFulbright-Hays award to teach in France, isspending the current academic year as alecturer in American studies at the Universityof Rouen near Paris. Evans is on leave as anassistant professor of English at Augusta(Ga.) College.PATRICIA KOBISHOP FERRIS, MBA'72,Wheaton, II., has been elected to the positionof assistant manager in the internationalbanking department, First National Bank ofChicago.jo freeman, am'72, pIid'73, politicalscience professor at the State University ofNew York, Purchase, has won the AmericanPolitical Science Association prize for thebest scholarly work on women in politics.Freeman was cited for her book The Politicsof Women 's Liberation: A Case Study of anEmerging Social Movement and Its Relationto the Policy Process (David McKayCompany) which was also her doctoral dissertation.JEROME ANTHONY OFFNER, AB'72, is inMexico on a one-year Doherty fellowship foradvanced study in Latin America. Agraduate student in anthropology at Yale, heis examining litigation in the 16th century asa way to understand the political andeconomic systems of Texcoco, the secondcity of the Aztec empire.PAULA MEINETZ SHAPIRO, AM'72, is amember of the board of directors of theDance Critics Association, an organizationformed in June, 1974, to encourage excellence in dance writing.*7-3 steven Jacobs, mba'73, reports his' "^ marriage last August to MargeryDolinshek and a subsequent honeymoon inHawaii. In October Jacobs resigned fromAdvance Mortgage Corporation, where hewas assistant vice-president in the marketingdepartment, to accept a position with MerrillLynch's real estate subsidiary in New York astheir interest rate futures specialist. Hisresponsibilities include introducing the twonew futures markets — for GNMA mortgage-backed securities and for T-Bills — to the U. S. institutional investor market. He is alsodoing corporate planning for the subsidiary.ZACK FRANKLIN BETTIS, JR., MBA'73, andkaren marie rhey, am '74, were marriedSeptember 6, 1975, in Gettysburg, Pa. Thecouple are living in St. Louis, Mo., where heis employed as a senior accountant with thefirm of Ernst and Ernst and she is substituteteaching.in memoriam: George G. Ziontz, am'73,died November 21, 1975, in Chicago.n A davtd l. bloxom, am'74, has been' " elected to the executive committee ofthe board of directors for the Texas BoysChoir. He has also been chosen to participatein "Leadership Fort Worth," a broad-basedcommunity sponsored group to researchproblems that face Fort Worth.alana northrop, am'74, p1id'75, andvictor ira marmon, jd'75, were marriedAugust 11, 1975, inSimsbury, Ct.PATRICIA KENNEDY ARLIN, Phjj'74, has WOnthe Pi Lambda Theta distinguished researchaward "for the best dissertation in educationand related fields for 1973-'75."KATHLEEN WTLSON BRATTON, JD'74, anassociate with the New York law firm of Reidand Priest, has been admitted to the bar ofthe state of New York.SUSAN RUTH ROBERTSON, AB'74, wasmarried to john edward machulak, ab'75,October 11, 1975, in Mount Kisco, N. Y.Robertson is currently a second-year studentat the University of Wisconsin law school,where she is a member of the Law Review.Machulak is a first-year law student atWisconsin.TC Raymond j. brown, am'75, reports he"^ is now director of the social servicesdepartment of the Salvation Army in SanFrancisco. Brown and his wife Mary, whoformerly headed the UC Alumni Associationrecords department, live in San Francisco.liane marie bowman, ab'75, and davidJoseph zimny, ab'72, were marriedSeptember 27, 1975, and are currently livingin Lansing, Mi., where Liane is a volunteercaseworker at the Community Service andReferral Center and David a social sciencesinstructor at Lansing Community College.timothy a. hultquist, mba'75, has beenelected assistant manager, London branch,of the First National Bank of Chicago and iscurrently living in London.michael krauss, ab'75, previously sportsinformation director in the Office of PublicInformation, is now the public affairs representative for the College of the University ofChicago. He is participating in a five-yearjoint degree program from which he isscheduled to receive a master's in businessadministration degree from the Universitythis March.ANDREA KRASINSKI and MITCHELLkraynak, both ab'75, were married lastsummer in Beacon, N. Y., and are currentlyenrolled in the Stritch school of medicine,Loyola University, Chicago.in memoriam: Manuel Rodriguez-Martinez, mba'75, died July 22, 1975.46Memories of WilderThornton Niven Wilder died December 7,1975, at 78. Thrice winner of the PulitzerPrize, once for fiction and twice for drama,and honored in 1963 with the PresidentialMedal of Freedom, Wilder was a popularand volatile member of the University community through a couple of generations ofstudents, mostly in the '30s. Ironically, tworecollections of Wilder by former students,written while he lived, were on the desk ofthe editor of this magazine at the time ofhis death, and a biography had been published only a fortnight earlier — ThorntonWilder, an Intimate Portrait, by RichardGoldstone (New York: Saturday ReviewPress division of E. P. Dutton, 1975).Followed by the somewhat abridged recollections of Joan Weil Saltzstein and DavidLevine, a fragment of the Goldstone workfollows:Before taking up his teaching duties,Wilder published the following announcement in the University student newspaper:"1.1 shall reside in Hitchcock Hall duringthe Spring Quarter, 2. I shall be offeringtwo courses and they will not be snapcourses."One of the two was a humanities survey,a large lecture course in which Wilder spokeon some of the major works in worldliterature. His other offering was a smallseminar, limited to ten, to be devoted tostudent writing of fiction. Wilder chose theprivileged ten on the basis of personalinterviews.One student whom he accepted wasHarry Thornton Moore, who was to become a well-known figure in the academicworld through his exhaustive biography ofD. H. Lawrence and through his editorshipof the prestigious Cross Currents series. . . .Others in the class included Robert Ardrey,who later became a playwright and theauthor of successful books with anthropological themes; Lloyd Davidson, atransfer from Harvard; Louis Engel;Hannah Wallen; Frances Stevens; RuthZiev; and Dexter Masters, the son of poetEdgar Lee Masters. . . .[Wilder] was unsympathetic to writingthat was emotional or extravagant in tone.Having set up a traditional standard, hewould ridicule — as he read student writing—in a kindly, but severe, manneranything that did not conform to his classicnotions. Moore felt that Wilder 's inflexibleattitude served most of the students as agood corrective for their stylistic self-indulgences. Meeting the writing studentsat eleven, after his lecture hour, Wilderwould give them a hard time; storming upand down the platform, he would roar withmock rage when he encountered a cliche:"Imagine how fresh and wonderful it waswhen someone first said, 'Another Indianbit the dust!' "Notwithstanding, no one missed the class because Wilder was — apart from thehavoc he wreaked upon their exercises —extremely genial and helpful in all things.He accepted with disarming enthusiasm, allinvitations extended by the writing students, of whom he would say: "Once astudent of mine, always."Theophilus and PSGTheophilus North, Thornton Wilder tells usin its closing sentence, is the work of"memory and imagination combined."The message mentioned earlier is clear:"Were I not Thornton Wilder, I would beTheophilus North." Whether or not that issaid with tongue in cheek is another matterentirely.Wilder taught two courses at the University, the "other one" being on Greek andLatin literature. (Campus legend had it thatduring a session of that course, one JerryJontry* made a movement that resulted in asound of rending cloth, after which hemurmured, "Euripides, Eumenides.") Butwhen Wilder spoke of The Course (capitalshis) it was understood that he meant thecomposition course.There were no assignments in TheCourse, and during the first weeks I didn'tturn in much. Presently Wilder asked me tostay for a word after class. The word wasthat he was under the "painful necessity"of grading the participants, and at the rate Iwas going I wouldn't provide him with anadequate basis for assigning me a grade.After that I did better.Thornton Wilder taught us to respectwhat we created by putting words on paper,and to write honestly. I don't remember hisever using that word, but the lesson wasimplicit in every comment he made. Once,in a smart-aleck mood, I wrote a story inthe manner of the slick magazines of theday. Wilder read the piece in class and conceded that it was done with a degree oftechnical competence. "But," he added (Ican still hear him), "it's as cold and dead asa dead fish!"After 1934 I didn't see Wilder until hevisited Washington in 1958, where I wasworking for the U.S. Information Agency.I phoned someone who was in touch withhim and left word that a former student inThe Course wanted very much to see him.At breakfast the next morning Wildermentioned a trip to Germany the previousyear. He spoke with great appreciation ofthe pleasure derived from listening tospeeches "full of those wonderful Germanwords, like Dasein, and Weltanschauung."(Theophilus North expresses his admirationfor German thus: "What a wonderfullanguage it is! Aren't Leiden and Liebe and*Jerry Jontry (PhB'33) is now president ofEsquire, Inc. Sehnsucht more beautiful than 'sufferings'and 'love' and 'longing'?" On occasion,Theophilus and Thornton really see eye-to-eye.)Later, Wilder mentioned a girl who hadtaken The Course and subsequently got ajob with Procter and Gamble "writingradio plays — I believe they are called 'soapoperas'?" I assured him the terminologywas correct. "Well," he continued, "oneday I received a letter from Procter andGamble telling me how much they liked herwork, and asking whether I could recommend any more of my students to write forthem. So you see, if I can't teach anythingelse, I can teach people to write soapoperas!"DAVID LEVINE, x'34MiamiA gadfly, a tormentorBack in 1930, in Room 210 in Cobb Hall,Thornton Wilder, by then author of TheBridge of San Luis Rey, wondered aloud, attimes, whether he had a place in Americanliterature or whether he was only a writer of"potboilers." He was restless, unsure ofhimself, and his slender face with the brightdark eyes and small mustache had a questioning look as if he were nervously peeringinto the future.We came to know one another well thatsemester and often met at each others'homes, the "prof" joining in the laughter,the serious discussions, the probing intoour futures as "authors." I remember himpretending that he was a waiter, precariously balancing a tray, a napkin over hisarm, passing the drinks to us as we sat onmy living room floor.When he read our stories aloud in class,he paced up and down acting out eachscene, giving to the blandest prose adramatic touch.Even after we left the creative writingseminar — and later Thornton Wilder'sfamous course in Greek drama — andfinally were graduated, we never lost touch.In 1933 came a letter from Chicago. "Thebest University" he wrote above the date.As the years passed I heard from him lessfrequently, but when I did the old warmthwas there, the caring, the hope that I waswriting, "carving out a portion of everyday for the cultivation and exercise of thatother Joan," and he signed himself: "Oncea teacher, always a teacher and somethingof a goad, a gadfly and a tormentor."When I told him a few years ago that Iwas writing articles and, hopefully, a bookabout my architect grandfather, DankmarAdler, he was as pleased as if we were backin Cobb Hall."Everybody says I ought to settledown," he wrote me over twenty years ago,"but I'm still a vague gypsy nature andcan't change now."JOAN WHI SALTZSTEIN, PnB'31MilwaukeeAlL £ 9 0 3 "II O'j jjiiji.^ | gjy I £Q | S" -i 2-1 '¦**•K .WdDIlOHOD3H IV I 4 jS? DvOIhfl JO AlISJ3ATMna iwThanks to youwe met our matchYou. The alumni of The University of Chicago.Your unprecedented generosity enabled us to qualify for thefull one million dollars pledged by Robert and Barbara Anderson.18,000 alumni contributed to one or more of our annual givingprograms in 1975. Over 11,000 of you gave more than last year, generating$1.5 million in matchable funds.Your contributions, and the extra million which you earned, arealready working to meet the various budgeted needs of the University, as youintended. That's why annual funds are so valuable. Their impact is immediate.During the year, we'll tell you how your money has been spent,and what impact your 1976 gifts can make. The University will be offerednew opportunities to strengthen itself this year. We'll need new moneyto take advantage of them.Our challenge in 1976 will be to sustain and increase last year'shigh level of annual support without benefit of a matching grant. You'veencouraged us. In meeting our match, we've found some matchless friends.The University of Chicago