J(1- iifc THEUN1VERS1TYOFCHICAGO-yMAGAZINE mNOV 4 1970 V2^^iSrTHEUNIVERSITYOF CHICAGOLIBRARYTHEUNIVERSITYOF CHICAGOMAGAZINEMorality versus ComplexityAndrew M. Greeley 2SoaringMelvin L. Goldman 6Call Back YesterdayReunion 1970 and a Memory Album 16The New NewsmanPaul Gapp 3034 Quadrangle News36 People38 AlumniNews43 LettersVolume LXIII Number 1July/October 1970The University of Chicago Magazine,founded in 1907, is publishedbimonthly for alumni and thef aculty of The Universityof Chicago. Letters and editorialcontributions are welcomed.The University of ChicagoAlumni Association5733 University AvenueChicago, Illinois 60637(312) 643-0800, ext. 4291John S. Coulson, '36PrésidentArthur R. NayerDirector of Alumni AfïairsGabriella AzraelEditor Régional Offices1542 Riverside Drive, Suite F ,Glendale, California 91 201(213) 242-828839 West 55 StreetNew York, New York 100 19(212) 765-548030 Miller PlaceSan Francisco, California 94108(415) 433-40501629 K Street, N.W., Suite 500Washington, D. G 20006(202) 296-81002nd class postage paid at Chicago,111.; additional entry at Madison,Wisc. © 1970, The University ofChicago, Published in July/August/September/October, November/December, January/February,March/April, and May/June.Cover: The Midway, believe it or not, in i8g^. The first Ferris wheel, for the ColumbianExposition.Andrew M. Greeley"I think it's a mistake," said a faculty member at an élite Ameri^can university, "to tell young people how complicàted socialproblems are, because complexity is an excuse for not beinginvolved."There are those who think that while a sophisticated and un-involved student may be apathetk, an unsophisticated and involved young person may be a fanatic. There are even those whowould prefer apathy to fanaticism. But the faculty member 'scomment neatly summarized two critical issues currentfy\facingAmerican higher éducation:i. Is it possible to balance an awareness of the intricate complexity of social issues with moral commitment?2. And, if it is possible to achieve such a délicate balance, hashigher éducation any rôle to play in the development of such abalance?The traditional stance of élite American higher éducation hasbeen to shy away from questions of morality. One prominentcollège président has remarked, "There are two kinds of humandevelopment, intellectual and moral, and the collège is onlyinterested in the former." Furthermore, research scholarshiphas worked under a commitment to be value-free. Scholarship now we are witnessing the world crumbling around us simplybecause man has lost sight of his true essence, his soûl.I am very unhappy about the materialistic, money-grubbingworld 1 live in, but I am optimistic, because the kids of todayseem to hâve an under standing of their essence and morality.The problem of morality versus complexity is one of the mostknotty issues with which man has wrestled. If one chooses infavor of complexity, then it would appear that one must denythe relevance of gênerai moral principles and, on the other hand,if one commits oneself firmly to morality, then there is the gravedanger that reality will lose its lamentable grayness and appearin tones of black and white.The libéral anticommunists of the 1940*5 and 1950's, at leastin part because of their opposition to John Foster Dulles'moralistic approach to foreign policy, emphasized the complexity of political and social positions. Writers such as GeorgeKennan, Walter Lippmann, and Paul Nitze came close to con-cluding that because of the subtle and intricate nature of foreignpolicy problems, the nation had little or no choice but to base itspositions on what it perceived as its own most enlightened self-interest since moral principles provided little or no practicalconclusions. Similarly, social scientists proclaimed "the end ofideology" and seemed persuaded that most social problemswould yield to planning and technical compétence rather thanmORAUTT VSmay indeed teach the virtues that are required for its own endsbut, on other moral issues, whatever the scholar's own opinion,his scholarship is supposed to be neutral.And yet, the youthful militants, and not so militant are in-censed at what they take to be the immorality of their institutions and of many of their teachers, and demand that collègestake moral stands that facilitate development of moral commit-ments in their students. Nor does the demand seem to be ail thatnew. In a récent study done for the Carnegie Commission onAmerican Higher Education by the National Opinion ResearchCenter, it was discovered that the strongest predictor of satisfaction with their aima maters among alumni in their iatetwenties and early thirties was whether the collège had con-tributed to the development of values and goals for life. One ofthe 1961 alumni— a Jewish business man— summarized his feel-ings on the subject in very clear terms:Collège is supposed to teach a person how to think and howto live. A person must learn the meaning of life, and unless aperson learns this he will be unhappy forever, and will probablymake others unhappy. My collège tried to mold my intellect,which I Joave since realized is not man' s most important faculty.Man's spirit, his soûl, is totally neglected by collège just as it isneglected by our materialistic world, and as a character in"Karamazov" says: "Without God anything is possible/' And ideological visions. Finally, the ethical situationists insisted thatmoral décision had to be made in concrète circumstances, illumi-nated only by the overriding imperative of love.But enlightened self-interest in foreign policy producedVietnam, the unquestioned competency of the Public Interestschool of social scientists did not, in two libéral Démocratie administrations, notably improve the state of American society,and the imperative of love from the situationists did not modifyrelationships between white and nonwhite in American society.The people were lied to, some were oppressed, others werekilled, students were dehumanized by the multiversity. Eventhough moral evil had been defined out of existence, it did notseem to go away.The Movement is a swing away from complexity backtowards morality. While situation ethics may still reign suprêmeon matters sexual, the' young, and their not-so-young admirers,hâve taken vigorous moral stands on political and social issues,and do not hesitate to roundly denounce the libéral anticommunists and those who spoke of the end of ideology as "immoral."We are therefore in a very moral time, Paul Goodman, withapproval, predicts that we are on the verge of another "Protestant Reformation." Jacques Barzun, with disapproval, predictsthat we are approaching another Middle Ages, and Daniel Patrick Moynihan ruefully notes that we are in an era when young2people are trying to create a rigorous and demanding System ofmorality without the benefits of religious underpinnings of pre-vious moral Systems.Mr. Moynihan might hâve added that traditional religiousmoral Systems, being older and more experienced, hâve a greatdeal more flexibility and tolérance for human weakness thandues the New Morality of the Movement.But, just as an awareness of complexity, uninformed by strongmoral values could produce Vietnam, so strong moral values,enlightened by an awareness of complexity, produces the f anati-cism of, let us say, the Weatherman faction of the SDS. ProfessorKenniston has pointed out in a number of articles how the soldent protesters hâve moral values which are much more autono-mous and internalized than nonprotesters. Most recently, in anarticle in The Critic, Kenniston has added the observation thatinternalized morality by itself does not necessarily produce abalanced human personality. Other personality dimensions mustdevelop at the same time as the moral value Systems if the youngperson is not going to end up a highly motivated Zealot.And of Zealotry we hâve had more than enough.Perhaps it is because my own church is just freeing itself fromseveral centuries of highly moralistic intolérance, but I am veryskeptical of the enthusiastic moralist. The men who murderedJohn Kennedy and Robert Kennedy, Medgar Evers, and Martin Four propositions may be offered to define the limits of thatrazor's edge.i. Even in the post-Freudian, post-Marxist âge, there are suchthings as good and evil. No matter how complex the issues,technical compétence is not enough to arrive at décent andhumane solutions. Dialogue between moral principles and technical complexity is a difficult and intricate one ( as for example,in the ABM dispute) but it still must not be abandoned.2. There are no simple answers to any of the problems facingthe American nation. To prétend that there are simple answersis to be irresponsible. Thus Professor Wald's response to thequestion of how the United States could withdraw from Vietnam "by land, sea and air" was facile and witty but was not, inthe strict sensé of the word, a response at ail.3. Men of good will, intelligence, and complexity can agréeon moral principles and still disagree on the application of thèseprinciples. To claim moral sanction for one's own solution andto repudiate others as immoral brings one dangerously close tof anaticism. Thus, most men would agrée that the war in Vietnamshould corne to a speedy conclusion. Furthermore, some sorts ofconclusions— through thermonuclear warfare, for example— areclearly immoral, but, nevertheless, no single plan for disengagement is so obviously the right one as to be able to claim uniquemoral excellence. We may disagree and argue, and indeed argueCONFORMITELuther King ail presumably thought of themselves as very moralmen. We can dismiss them as insane bigots, but the step fromsingleminded moralism to bigotry or insanity is a short step. IfI am forced to choose between Machiavelli and Torquemada Iwill cheerfully choose the former. The Machiavellis of the worldhâve caused some human suffering, and tolerated much more,but they are rank amateurs at creating human misery comparedwith the Torquemadas.Nor will it help to argue, as do the disciples of ProfessorMarcuse, that my morality is better than your morality and,therefore, you must adhère to my morality even if I hâve to forceyou to, Fot such an argument may hâve some short-range effectif he who poses it happens to enjoy more force than his adver-sary. But if he possesses less force— as presumably do ProfessorMarcuses disciples— then he may fînd himself oppressed ratherthan oppressing; and if the force is relatively equal, the resuitis likely to be the blood bath of religious warfare. To be moralistic is bad enough, but to be moralistic about one's moralism isa guarantee of violence and tyranny.But, surely, there has to be some middle course betweenTorquemada and Machiavelli. I am inclined to think there is,though beyond doubt he who tries to assume such a middleposition, of ten finds himself poised precariously on the edge ofa razor. vigorously with those whose disengagement plans seem to us tobe inadéquate, but we ought to be wary of doing so in the nameof the super ior morality of our plan. Similarly, men of goodwill agrée on the evils of racial injustice but it does not followautomatically that, let us say, busirig school children has a uniqueclaim to moral excellence as a means to eliminating discrimination. Those who support busing may be able to marshal atelling case against those who oppose it, but the caseis not sooverwhelmingly clear to enable the advocates of busing to claima superior morality for their position.4. The intelligent and educated person is able to maintaininvolvement in social problems without becoming a fanatic. Itis not necessary to hâve zealots in order that we might hâvereformers. Young people may hâve deep and permanent com-mitments to working for social change without needing to createscapegoats on which they can blâme social problems.Underlying thèse four propositions is the assumption thatAndrew M. Greeley, a Roman Catholic priest, is program di-rector at the National Opinion Research Center and a lecturerin sociology at the University of Chicago. His prédictions for theeighth décade appeared in the January/February issue of theMagazine.there is a dimension of the human personality— which we willcall moral intelligence— which can be developed in the maturation expérience. This moral intelligence is not developed byfaculty members who, as John McDermott puts it, see "them-selves as embattled missionaries to the culturally philistine." Itis rather, I think, the capacity to repeatedly reexamine andclarify one's own values in the light of concrète situations inwhich one finds oneself. Moral intelligence is the habit of notletting moral principles get out of sight but, also, of not lettingthem Mot out the picture of the complex gray reality whichconstitutes our political and social world. The morally intelligentperson is not satisfied with his own conventional wisdom,whether that wisdom inclines him to withdraw from problemsthat seem too complex or to charge into the problems whichseem simple.A classic example of moral intelligence at work was the be-havior of the Kennedys at that point in the délibérations duringthe Cuban missile crisis when consensus had almost beenreached for the bombing of Cuba. Attorney General Kennedyargued vigorously that such surprise attack was completelyforeign to the traditions of the American republic. Character-istically, he asserted, "You're not going to make my brother theGeneral Tojo of the i96o's." The issue was a complex politicalquestion and the solution to it was necessarily a political solution. One may disagree with that solution but the point is thata far more dangerous and violent solution was averted, not somuch in terms of political pragmatism ( though surely there wasan élément of that) , but in the terms of a moral vision by whicha nation had lived. One regrets that Mr. Kennedy was not présent in 1965 to raise the same question when the décision wasmade to escalate the Vietnamese war.The décision not to bomb Cuba is an excellent illustration ofone of the peculiarities of moral intelligence. It is relatively easyfor the morally intelligent man to know what not to do; he doesnot bomb Cuba; he does not get involved in a land war in Asia;he does not tolerate racial préjudice; he does not dehumanizecollège students; but it is much more difiicult for him to knowwhat to do positively to implement the values that are implicitin décisions about what not to do.If higher éducation is to make any contribution at ail in thedevelopment of moral intelligence, I think it will not do so bydirect and explicit effort. The thought of a course entitled"Moral Intelligence 10 1" is absurd and appalling. Equally ap-4 palling, but not so absurd, is the thought of faculty memberssubtly trying to convert students to their moral viewpoints and,be it noted, thèse attempts of conversion are by no means limitedto denominational collèges. I would suspect, rather, that moralintelligence is learned, if it is learned at ail in a collège, throughinterpersonal osmosis. Young people learn to exercise this virtueprimarily because they hâve seen their teachers exercise it.Faculty and administrators of a collège, therefore, wouldcontribute to the development of moral intelligence in theirstudents by the following kinds of behavior:1. They must demonstrate compassion for ail people and notmerely for those groups for whom it is currently fashionable tohâve compassion. Compassion for black is admirable, but so iscompassion for Polish ethnies; when ethnies are discussed solelyin terms of being a "barrier to social progress" they are nottreated as human beings. J, D. Salinger's "Fat Lady"— even if sheis Polish— is still Jésus Christ.2. The faculty member or administrator must refuse to in-dulge in scapegoating as an outlet for his frustration. Blamingof individuals is great therapy for our oedipal problems, but ithas, in the final analysis, nothing to do either with éducation ormorality.3. The campus adult will beware of reifying labels. Suchcatch phrases as the "Establishment" or the "military-industrialcomplex" or the "power structure" may be very useful politicalslogans but they are not, however, accurate and précise descriptions of the reality of the social order. A faculty member mayknow that the "Establishment" is a myth but his youthful disciple may take it as a literal reality (only to be disappointedsome day when he discovers that ii there were an Establishmentit would run things much more smoothly ) .4. The faculty member or administrator will resolutely refuseto provide simplistic answers to complex questions. No matterhow strongly he may f eel about war or technocracy or race— andif he is fully human, he must feel strongly on ail three— he willnot betray his students by leading them to believe that ail thatis required to solve thèse three problems is common sensé,moral righteousness, and enthusiasm. Furthermore, he will dis-play proper reserve and skepticism about the latest fads andf ashions in the académie world, no matter how strongly endorsedthèse fads and fashions may be. He will, for example, welcomea reconsideration of the history of the Cold War but he will beno more inclined now to think that it was ail the fault of theUnited States than he was fifteen years ago (or as he will befifteen years from now) to think that it was ail the fault of aworld communism.5. The adult who is interested in the development of moralintelligence among the young people on campus will not hesitateto warn the students that one of the most pernicious phenom-enon in the human expérience is that mixture of guilt andself-righteousness which the late Ronald Knox once describedas "enthusiasm."In other words, if young people are to learn moral intelligenceat ail they will learn it from association with men and womenwho hâve strong moral commitments but who constantly are inthe process of clarifying and revising their commitments, menand women who refuse to gïve up the struggle for a better andmore humane world but also refuse to impose their own contingent applications of moral vision on others as the only kindof authentically moral decency.It is not easy at the end of the tempestuous 1960^ to stand onthe razor's edge between zealotry and apathy but then it neverhas been. Perhaps that's why so few hâve tried.Journals like the New York Times Magazine and Harper's—weathervanes of intellectual fashion— are subtly shifting againstthe students. SDS falls victim to the traditional leftist techniqueof self-destruction through factionalism. Moderate political action on the pollution issue seems to be one new direction forstudent enthusiasm. Politicians, libéral and conservative, areunanimous in their denunciations of student violence. As onecynic put it, "Even the young are getting tired of youth."One would be very foolish indeed to predict an end of radicalprotest. This fall may see another outburst. But sympatheticsupport for protesters both in the gênerai population and amongstudents seems to be waning. Collège administrators, who hâvegrown much more skilled in the art of confrontation, may hâvea much easier time of it in years to corne. The counter-culture—such as it may be— seems to hâve moved from Sproul Hall viathe Conrad Hilton to Woodstock.Yet, there is something very wrong. I feel that we may hâvebetrayed a whole génération of enthusiastic and idealistic youngpeople by letting them believe that there were simple answersand that instant response to political activity was possible. Re-cently, a vétéran (at twenty-six) student leader said to me, "Mygénération has lost on everythxng; we lost on the war, we lost onMcCarthy, we hâve been excluded from the black movement, we've lost on educational reform, we've lost in the struggleagainst poverty. It looks like we will either hâve to make ourpeace with the System or turn to communitarian groups and aseparate culture. Either way we won't hâve much impact."The young man had much less self-pity than most students( though he certainly lacked the stringent honesty about himselfthat a Bernadette Devlin can display ) ; he was not an extremist.He never had permitted himself too many illusions. Yet, he wasweary and worn. He seemed unaware that political and socialchange take time, effort and patience; he lacked faith thatreform is possible; and he lacked the moral intelligence tounderstand that it is immoral to quit at twenty-six. Someone had,it seemed to me, failed to communicate to him the nature ofthe social reality in which man must live.Again, a girl who had served a sentence in a fédéral prison ona narcotics charge commented, "The ones I really despise arethe faculty. They had ail their bright libéral f ashions. They saidit was ail right for us to experiment with drugs. But they didn'thâve to go to jail and I did."Finally, a student writing in criticism of the Maroon's standon drugs asserted, "I am a pothead, an experienced tripper, aspeed freak, and at one point I was mildly hooked on heroin . . .I am not Levi, I am not the fuzz, I am not Student Health; I amjust a student, more screwed up than most, who earnestly hopesthat somebody out there will profit from my unfortunate expériences. The sum total of my expérience is that dope is bad....Ihâte dope, but, if I had my hands on an ounce of pure pharma-ceutical cocaine, I would keep injecting it until it was gone orI was dead...I just wish people in responsible positions... wouldthink about the other side of the drug controversy."I am not blaming the problems of thèse three young peopleon their collège expériences. Presumably, much that went beforethe collège years provided the roots for their difficulties. Noram I arguing that the collège should try to inculcate moralprinciples; it should not and probably cannot. Finally, I am nottrying to défend the war, the Administration, drug laws or eventhe "establishment" (which doesn't really exist).But I am arguing that there are certain habits of mind whichare an essential part of the disciplined intellect that enables hewho possesses thèse habits to approach moral issues with a sensçof nuanced respect for the complexity of reality. If this respectis not to be found among many young people, the reason maybe that it is not found among many of their teachers either.5Soarîng%<*¦'¦¦^*:^^#Siite^PT^£w M::. -^^^'^^^g «'tLwâîJi***'tTTIZ123.30«— A» \TURN ANO BANK -JliGMT f- "-^'UMI1S \. -..„>¦ • 1. . ..t ¦ |HgiO UOW1 SI- ¦*¦Melvin L. GoldmanMelvin L. Goldman, PhB'34, JD'35, was a Chicago attorney, civilrights fighter, avid sportsman, a mountain climber, rapids tun~ner, balloonist, pilot, glider pilot, who, ,according to his wife,"packed more into fifty-six years of living than some do in ahundred." He died as the Magazine was going to press.JL omy romantic f amily, who shared from the sidelines everymoment of my great adventure of learning to soar, I am, prosa-ically, a pilot. To the prosaic Fédéral Aviation Agency, whonever heard of me until a f ew years ago, I am, romantically, an"Airman," and they issued to me a formally-titled "AirmanCertificate." Romance may dépend on the point of view. Whenthe adventure began, it was worrisome, not romantic.My wife and I were planning a trip with one of our boys intoa remote area of the Southwest. The best way to reach our start-ing place was by a charter flight in a single-engine four-pas-senger airplane, to a wilderness landing strip.We had made several airliner journeys; but a small, light air-craft was something we knew nothing about except by news-paper réputation. I was worried. When I made the arrangementsby mail and sent off my deposit-check to the charter operator, Iwondered how I could be so foolish. Risking my life was onething, but my wife, my son— how did I dare risk their lives too?The worry lasted until we were actually flying, crowded intothe tiny cabin with our gear packed ail around us. Then I startedto enjoy the tremendous view, and wanted to talk about it to theothers.Talk lost the battle against the steady roar of the engine. Thiswould be great, I thought, if we didn't hâve that engine almostin our laps; isn't there some way to fly without it? The questionanswered itself: there is— in a glider.Right then, unknown to any of us, the Fédéral AviationAgency started to get ready for a new Airman.Having been born in 19 14, 1 grew up when flyers were crazypeople who wore helmets, goggles, and white scarves, and towhom insurance companies refused to issue policies. But 19 14was a long time ago. As I read about ailerons, airfoils, andangles-of-attack in library books after I got home, I began towonder if I might actually become a flyer myself .8 Gliders— more precisely, "sailplanes" for the modem high-performance ships— dont look very much like powered air-planes. They are much sleeker, with narrow, trim fuselages abouttwenty-three or twenty-f our f eet long, and slender, élégant wingsspanning fifty feet or more. The pilot sits with his feet out-stretched to the rudder pedals. The nose of the ship is just be-yond his feet. He Aies with his right hand on a control stick likethat in-the older airplanes. The sides of the fuselage corne aboutup to the height of the pilot 's shoulders in his sitting position.The cockpit is covered by a clear plastic canopy. The fuselage isjust wide enough to accommodate the pilot's shoulders. Thewhole arrangement fits the ship to its pilot like a garment, andgives remarkable, almost startling, visibility.I decided to take a test flight. I met my glider host on an over-cast, chilly, windy day in November. The glider was a Schweizer2-22, a trainer type which I later came to know very well. Thetwo seats are in tandem. Each has a complète set of controls. Oneof the ship's owners— Stan Cale, a tall, affable Englishman— toldme that I was to sit in the front seat. I climbed in over the sideand fitted myself in, gingerly holding my hands and feet awayfrom the controls. Stan got in behind me, pulled the canopy shut,and latched it securely.Gliders hâve only one landing wheel, a small one in the centerof the fuselage, so when the ship is at rest, a wing lies on theground. One of Stan's group picked up the wingtip. A smallairplane, two hundred feet ahead of us, with our towrope, a thinnylon cord, started to move. And so did we. The man at thewingtip ran along holding the wings level, until our increasingspeed pulled us ahead of him, and we eased off the ground. Iwatched the white towplane at the taut rope's far end, climbingsteadily against the gray autumn sky.t two thousand feet above the airfield Stan released thetowrope by pulling a big red knob, and we were on our own.The towplane dived to the lef t, trailing the rope, and we climbedshallowly to the right to reduce our speed from the sixty-fivemiles an hour at which we had been towed, to a cruising speedof around forty-five.We started down. Gliders are always going down. With theirsuperb aerodynamics and clean, polished lines, they go downvery slowly— about one foot down for every twenty-five tothirty-five feet forward; but nevertheless they are inexorably going down. Yet sailplanes do commonly stay in the air for hours ata time. Their pilots turn this trick, usually, by finding rising con-vection currents in the sun-warmed air of a summer day. Thèseare the "thermals" a soaring pilot is always hunting. The air in athermal rises faster than the sailplane is sinking and the netresuit is up. The pilot stays in the thermal by flying in slow,steeply banked circles. He soars up like a bird. Sometimes he hasa real bird doing a f ew turns right along with him in his thermal.But on that cloudy, cold day of my first sailplane flight, therewere no thermals. We coasted steadily downhill, back to the air-field. We touched down on our single wheel and coasted to astop. One wing dropped lightly to the ground, like a bicyclerider coming to a hait and putting down a foot.I went through a few weeks of indecisive introspection. DidI really want to learn soaring? Wasn't it risky and foolhardy—especially for me, forty-eight years old, a very conventionallawyer, a family man? What about my réflexes, my eyeglasses—to say nothing of my bald head? But on the other hand— unde-niably, it would be exciting; plainly, it would be interesting,fascinating. It would certainly be new, an adventure. Why not try ?Having made the décision, I found out that the best place tolearn gliding was at the Schweizer Aircraft Company 's gliderschbol at Elmira, New York, and that's where I arranged to go.The Schweizer School is at one corner of the Elmira Airport.The adjoining factory has turned out about a third of the twelvehundred or so sailplanes now actually flying in the United States.I walked into their office one fine May day and met my instruc-tor, Bernie Carris. He's Schweizer's test pilot, and a soaringchamp. He led the way put to the airfield and to my classroom,another 2-22. We started out by inspecting the glider. We lookedat everything, moved ail the controls to be sure they were inworking order, and pushed the 2-22 out on the runway. A towplane was waiting for us. We climbed in, f astened seat belts andshoulder harness, and were off.The sky was bright and blue, the wind brisk out of the north-west, the bumps rough and sharp as we towed up. It seemed tome that we were going up a little too fast— the ground appearedto be dropping away in much more of a rush than it did whenStan Cale had taken me up. I wondered what foolishness I was getting into and why man wanted to leave the good solid earthanyway.It was actually a fine soaring day. Bernie found a thermal andcircled us up several thousand feet, then had me put my handsand feet on the controls. The tiirns seemed even steeper anddizzier; why couldn't we just fly straight-and-level for a while?Three-quarters of an hour after takeoff I was violently sick.Discouraged, hardly tells how I felt that evening. It appearedthat my flying career was over before it started, but dinner withtwo professional power pilots who had corne to Elmira to learnto be glider instructors cheered me. They assured me that suchsickness was commonplace among beginners in the air, especially beginners who tackled gliders first instead of powered air-planes; even experienced power pilots hâve been known to getsick on their first glider flight. With thèse reassurances, I re-ported to Bernie the next morning, and needn't hâve worried;the airsickness never returned.JËhe fine weather held and I flew every day. With casual,easygoing Bernie sitting behind, coaching, helping, I began tolearn to fly in a straight Une and to turn without skidding orslipping through the air. I was learning on the towline. This isessential and must be done properly. The glider is unstablewhile being towed, and wants to fly off in every direction. Ifound that to stay in proper position takes absolutely steadyattention. Except for an occasional quickly-snatched glance atthe instrument panel or at the ground below, the pilot keepshis eyes on the towplane.Before long, landings were my big problem, really my onlyproblem. On the final approach and at the point of touchingdown, the pilots hand must be gentle and light, but firm anddefinite at the same time. Not an easy combination to master,and my hand was none of those things. Instead, I pushed andpulled and yanked in those last seconds as the ground rushedup at me and of course my landings were awkward, rough, andhaphazard.It was simple, straightforward fear. When I finally realizedthis, the fear started to dissolve. Màtters improved. My landingsstill weren't those of an expert, but they improved.During those days of instruction, there was always in the9back of my mind the question, when will I solo? Or, to put itmore accurately and truthfully, the question for me often was,will I ever solo? Not ail students do. There were those terriblelandings. But one week to the day after our first flight, I landedthe 2-22 and Bernie climbed out. "This thing will feel lighterwithout me." There was my answer. If Bernie said I could soloand land in one pièce, there was no doubt about it. I could do it.Up I went and released the towrope at two thousand feet asusual. It was another beautiful soaring day. The blue spring skywas dotted ail over with white, cottony, flat-bottomed cumulusclouds. Each one marked the top of a thermal. I hit a strongup-current and started to soar.When a pilot is soaring up in a thermal, three hundred, eighthundred, a thousand feet, t^ie steeply turning flight is usuallyrough and surging. The pilot feels that he is being tossed on afountain of air. Exultantly, exuberantly, intent and absorbed,up and up he goes. The excitement, the thrill, never palis.Ten or fifteen minutes of thermaling brought me near theflat base of my cumulus cloud, and in its chilly shadow. Thealtimeter told me I was six thousand feet above the airport. Iflew out of the thermal, out from the shadow of the cloud, andcoasted along. I couldn't believe it was 1. 1 sang, I talked aloudabout the splendid view, to convince myself that I wasn't dream-ing. I looked around at the back seat to enjoy the sight of itsemptiness. I flew from cloud to cloud, circling and soaring withbuoyant lift everywhere, finding pure joy in the sunshine of thatnever-to-be-fqrgotten day.flew for more than an hour on my first solo flight, andcame down because I knew there were others waiting to fly theship, I could hâve stayed up ail afternoon. Another week of soloflying followed, with more long flights. Those sunny spring daysseemed to produce only thermals, only rising air. At the end ofmy second week at Elmira, I passed the Fédéral AviationAgency's flight test, and they officially designated me an Airmanand gave me an Airman Certificate tô prove it.Thirty miles southwest of downtown Chicago at Napervilie,Illinois, is a small private airfield used by the Chicago GliderClub. From above, it is not recognizable as an airfield except forthe dozen or so small planes parked at one corner. The club10 owns a towplane and three sailplanes— a single-seater and twofine high-performance two-seaters.Joining the club with a grand total of fifteen hours and tenminutes in the air, I began to learn to fly one of the two-seaters,a European make known by its model number, K-7. It glidesflatter than the Schweizer trainer, lands faster, and respondsmore quickly to the controls. It was a handful for me, and Ineeded plenty of help. But again, the flights and hours mountedup. I began to recognize the landmarks in a plate-flat landscape,and to bring the new sailplane under firmer control. I filled another page in my logbook.CTOJLmJeîote I had been a member very long, I realized that theChicago Glider Club, whose members are airline pilots, businessmen, doctors, factory workers, scientists, engineers, an archi-tect, and a prof essional photographer, is the largest single groupof top-drawer, championship sailplane pilots in the country.They are experts at long cross-country sailplane flights duringthe spring and summer soaring season. They land at distant air-ports or more often in farm fields. Then someone— usually thepilot's wife— goes to retrieve pilot and ship, with a 'trailer builtto hold the sailplane. The ships are light and corne apart easily.Three people can hâve the wings off and the ship stowed on itstraiter in fifteen or twenty minutes.A cross-country flight has to be made on an especially goodsoaring day. The pilot climbs three thousand, five thousand feetin a thermal and then coasts, usually downwind, from thermalto thermal as long as the day holds good. With very little wind,or with no wind, a cross-country flight can average about thirtyor forty miles an hour over the ground. The speed, of course,will be increased by the amount of any favoring tailwind. Theworld's distance record is 645 miles, held by an American: aneleven-hour flight from Texas to Nebraska, made on a day ofstrong tailwinds.I listened rather detachedly, during my first two soaring sea-sons, to taies of cross-country flights. They did not seem relatedto me. I wasn't ready yet, either emotionally or from the stand-point of expérience. During that period I began learning topilot a powered airplane. My soaring friends had urged me intothis, feeling that it would improve my glider ability. They wereright. Flying long distances under power and landing at strangeairports, learning to read and follow aeronautical maps, ail con-tributed to a willingness to fly a glider away from home base.Willingness became curiosity, then eagerness, as another spring-time rolled around and more hours in the air brought me agrowing feeling of ease and comfort in the cockpit.My day was a beautiful one in June. I was to fly the club'ssingle-seater. Other members helped me push it out on the run-way, then climb in and buckle up the seat belt and shoulderharness. I had a canteen of water, a pocketful of raisins, and afew maps. I knew thèse préparations were necessary, butcouldn't help feeling them to be slightly pretentious when it waspossible, maybe probable, that I would not Jbe able to stay upand would land in a field five miles away and corne traileringhome very sheepishly.When ail was ready, the towplane roared and we were off.At two thousand feet I released. I soared over the field until Iwas up to four thousand feet. That seemed to be the right altitude for leaving. Then I discovered that it was going to take adefinite act of will to sever the invisible umbilical cord thatbound me to that airfield. Should I wait for a better day? Whatdangers did I face without that comfortable, familiar, grassylanding strip below me? Well, I had gone up there to fly to adistant place, and I wasn't going to dissuade myself now. I saidaloud, distinctly, and firmly, "I am now going to fly away fromhome." I straightened out my flight path and headed downwind.M. JL alf an hour later I was twenty miles away ând down totwelve hundred feet. Wherever those thermals might be, I hadn'tbeen finding many. My flight appeared to be nearly over. Ithought of ail I had been told, and read, about how to pick agood field for landing. I could fly about five minutes more beforeI would be committed to land. I looked over the squarish andoblong fields below, of various colors, and tried to décide whichwould be best. Almost to my surprise I felt very calm about ailthis. Actually, almost any of those fields was suitable. At thattime of year most crops are very low and so saf e to land in, anda glider can be brought to a stop within seventy-five or a hundred feet af ter its wheel touches the ground.Then I flew into a very strong, fresh, thermal. It evidently had just broken loose from some of\the black plowed earthbelow. In less than ten minutes I had circled in it up to seventhousand feet, and as I soared I looked up ancVwatched the thermal begin to form its flat-bottomed cumulus cloud.From then on, my staying-up troubles were over. I soared andflew ail afternoon across Illinois. Most of the time I was betweensix thousand and eight thousand feet; I was never lower thanfour thousand. I followed the cumulus clouds— the thermalmarkers. I landed at dusk at the airport at Springfield, the statecapital, 160 miles from home. It was a great day.JL^esides thermals, there are two other ways to keep a sailplane in the air. Where the wind blows against a ridge or longhill it is deflected up war d— "ridge lift"— and a glider can soarback and f orth along the ridge and stay aloft as long as the windlasts. Birds often do this.But the most exciting place to soar is in the great standingwind waves that form over mountains. They are like those madeby water in a stream running over barely-submerged rocks; butthe wind waves, for reasons not fully understood, tend to risefar higher than the obstructions which cause them. Pike's Peaktosses up such waves when the wind is strong from a westerlydirection. The waves are greatest in the winter months.The world's altitude record for a sailplane is 46,267 feet, setby Paul Bikle, director of NASA, in a huge wave over the SierraNevadas near Bishop, California. Mr. Bikle had to stop at thataltitude because the oxygen equipment he was using did notallow him to go any higher. I sometimes heard talk about waveflying: "You should start using oxygen above thirteen or four-teen thousand feet because at thirty thousand feet, you hâveabout a minute and a half of consciousness without it.J' I heardabout the wave-flying sailplanes being equipped with oxygentanks and masks, emergency bail-out oxygen bottles, pressure-demand regulators, pressure gages, flow indicators, and the mèrerécitai of the equipment made me nervous. If I had felt detachedfrom cross-country flying, I felt as remote from wave soaringas from the planet Saturn.Yet in the surprising course of èvents, one crisp, cold Januaryday I prepared to climb into the cockpit of a trim sailplane atBlack Forest, a private airport on the Colorado plains, twenty-ïttwo miles northeast of Pike's Peak. In the clear mid-day sunthe Peak stood forth against the blue sky with the intense clarityof a stage set. I wore a parachute. I also wore long woolen under-wear, jeans, a wool shirt, two sweaters, a thick winter jacket,and a wool cap. On my feet I had two pairs of woolen socks,heavy outdoor shoes, and large, clumsy, fleece-lined ex-AirForce flight boots. The température at the high altitudes of awave flight is far below zéro, and gliders are not heated. Thereis nothing to heat them with, and if there were, moisture ex-haled with the pilot's breath would freeze on the inside of theclear plastic canopy. The température in the cockpit is the sameas the température outside.Another pilot helped me squeeze down into the seat and easemy huge boots into position on the rudder pedals. I fastenedthe séat belt and shoulder harness and with help cinched downthe straps as tightly as they could be pulled, over my bulkyclothing.I buckled on my oxygen mask and took a f ew breaths to checkthe flow. An indicator on the instrument panel drops a yellowplastic lid over an eye-shaped opening, with each inhalation.Of course it's called a blinder, and the pilot monitors it to besure that the oxygen System is working.The oxygen mask has a tiny microphone embedded in it. Iplugged its cord into the glider's radio, pressed the mike buttonon top of the control stick and tested the radio by exchanging afew words with Dave Johnson, pilot of the towplane out aheadof me and ready to go.I pulled the canopy shut and latched it, then held up a thumb.The man who had been helping me wished me good luck withthe universal friendly gesture of clasped hands raised overheâd.He lifted the wingtip from the ground and held it level for mytakeoff.sat there for a moment while I mentally pulled myself to-gether. The old thought flickered again: what foolishness isthis? Then I pressed the mike button: "Dave, I'm ready to goany time you are." A moment later we were rôlling across thefield until I had enough speed to fly, then we were skimming,then flying in clean unison through smooth, steady, cold winterair, headed toward the Rocky Mountains a few miles away. The air at the underside of a mountain wave is usually quiterough. The Weather Bureau calls this the "rotor area." Towplane and glider must fly through it to reach the wave. Theturbulence can range from "mild" to "severe." When we flewinto the rotor area, the violence was far beyond anything I hadexpected. The towplane out ahead appeared to be jerking crazilyup and down on the end of a rubber band. The towrope slack-ened, then snapped taut again with powerful jerks. I continuallyplayed the spoilers— the ship's air brakes— in and out, to hold myposition on tow. The glider lurched and banged along as thoughit were being yanked over a boulder field. Three times greatblasts of down-rushing air punched so hard that my feet flewup off the rudder pedals, and snow that had brushed off myboots and lay in the bottom of the fuselage, sprayed up past myface, to the top of the canorjy.T.JLhe rotor area was actually "moderately severe" that day, andwe took about five minutes to fly through it. It seemed like fif ty.Then we entered the wave. Instantly we went from wild turbulence to extrême smoothness. Dave rocked his wings as asignal for me to release the glider. I pulled the big red releaseknob. I was wave soaring.The swiftly rising current of air in a mountain wave is assmooth as glass. The pilot sits as steadily as in an armchair athome. The wave tends to remain stationary with respect to theground below it, sometimes for an entire day. The pilot watcheshis position over the ground as he feels his way into the reachesof his wave. A wave may be a quarter of a mile in extent; or itmay extend for several miles, at a right angle to the directionof the wind. The upward swing, the lift, of a moderately strongwave will carry the soaring pilot up at foiir hundred or five hundred feet a minute. A really strong wave will lift him at a thousand feet a minute and^xnore. An elevator in a modem sky-scraper office building rises at about four hundred feet a minute.As I soared up that day on my wave, I was headed directlytoward Pike's Peak, fourteen thousand feet high and a few milesaway. Its summit was covered with deep snow and gleamedwhitely, somberly, in the sun. My variometer needle showed up.The pointers on my altimeter swung steadily around the dial.I was on the way up, ail right. I rose level with the top of the12Peak, and flew closer to it, following the contour of the wave.A few minutes later the Peak was below me, and getting steadilymore below ail the time.It was fantasy, magie unreality. Distant ranges of the Rockiescame into view. The Continental Divide, unmistakable, notchedand rough like the back of a dinosaur, snowy blue-white, markedthe horizon eighty miles to the west. Mount Blancâ and theSangre de Cristo range were clear and sharp in the brilliantColorado sunshine, more than a hundred miles south. Denverwas a violet smudge to the north. That snowy hillock directlybelow was the summit of Pike's Peak.I soared up at a steady six hundred feet a minute in that massof butter-smooth air, until my aitimeter showed twenty-twothousand feet. Quite abruptly the lift slowed down, then halted.At that height I now had plenty of safe altitude from whichto enjoy the huge view, and hunt elsewhere for more lift, morewaves. I flew freely and easily around the Peak and beyond it.There were strong waves in other places nearby, but nonehigher, and I flew from one to another, over a span of eight orten miles around the summit of the Peak. I used the waves asstairways to climb again after I had lost a thousand feet or twoin wheeling and circling while I absorbed the stupendous impact of my being in that amazing place.fter an hour or more I returned to where I had firsttouched twenty-two thousand. The needle of my variometerpointed to zéro, which meant that I was nekher sinking nor ris-ing— "zéro sink" to the sailplane pilots. I decided now to staywhere I was and hope and watch for something to happen, sincethe waves fluctuate markedly, often rapidly. They literally waveup and down.I knew it would hâve to happen soon, because the sun wasgetting low. Late-afternoon clouds were forming over the rangefar to the west, and nearer, too. The vast shadow of the Rockieshad already moved out over the plain to the east. The edge ofthe shadow was at the gliderport, twenty-two miles away.I felt the sailplane jostle slightly in its steady flight. Thevariometer needle swung up, the aitimeter hands were begin-ning to move again. The wave was working once more, an easy,mighty, huff of air. Again I was going up. The variometer showed four hundredfeet a minute, five hundred, then a steady, strong, eight hundred.The aitimeter swung past twenty-three thousand, twenty-four—its hands were moving almost as fast as the second hand on mywatch. Thirty thousand feet up now, and the lift holding. Thirty -two thousand, thirty-three.JL JL\\ around me now the primeval world below was dim-ming out as the day ended. The western clouds were high andmassive. Night was moving steadily into the sky to the east. Theshadow growing on the eastern plain was darker.Fifteen minutes later my aitimeter s hands touched thirty-sixthousand feet. The wind at that height was blowing one hundred miles an hour; by flying squarely into it at the same speed,I stayed stationary over Pike's Peak, four miles below. The ther-mometer on the instrument panel showed seventy-five belowzéro. The blinker gave me a reassuring wink with each breathI took.Once again, I could hardly believe it was I— flying alone,thirty-six thousand feet up, with no engine, just wings sprout-ing from my shoulders.Now the clouded sun reached the spine of the ContinentalDivide. I had struggled hard and long to get to my incredibleperch, and I knew it was time to go back to the world. Of courseit had to be done, but it wasn't easy. I thought of my first cross-country sailplane flight. I said aloud, my voice muffled in theoxygen mask,."Now I am going down."I swung toward the gliderport and opened the spoilers fulfout. Slanting down my spoilered steep pathway I turned thesailplane back again and again, to enjoy the convoluted colorsof a mauve-and-ruddy Colorado sunset spread against the sky.When I headed back on course I could see the field ahead, onlya few miles away. As I leveled off to begin my landing pattern,then angled down for my final approach, the hangar lights cameon at the far end of the field.As I got closer to the gliderport in the growing darkness, Ithought of my flight, miles away from Earth, in my few hundredpounds of fragile sailplane, alone and silent in the cold fiercewind of that far place. It seemed to me that, subjectively at anyrate, I had been farther than the astronauts.13i&& :m'y- ¦:'¦:¦: '-^ '-¦¦¦¦ -, ¦¦¦¦¦¦r-.v:.-..-^•¦• *$mm:'.'¦. y!' 't1.^ ¦ \£j :¦,,':. $?,'¦ .-¦' IIA'' ^fiUs: m?>*.,¦;>'.... r<- ;•' '1 ¦aie<sm"'/-•".' .:--'r'¦ îi'- ¦ ;- '.'«¦•'ï'iiîfraHRCflU.-BflCKYESTERDflY"O! Call back yesterday, bid time return." William ShakespeareReunion 1970 was not, it turned out, time for the backslapping,you old son of a gunning traditionally associated with collègereunions. June 11-13 was rather a sober time, following hardupon the troubled events of May. The campus was quiet, notominously so, for the campus during May had never explodednor been forcibly tamped down. It was merely quiet, as theundergraduates had departed and the graduâtes that remainedwere still thinking.And so were the 1,500 or so alumni who reunited for Reunion. They began to arrive on Thursday, the eleventh; byFriday they were in média res. Tours were conducted Fridayafternoon— around the campus, the Oriental Institute, the University Glass Shop, Robie House— the last of which still hadsome sad reminders of the only violence that took place oncampus during May: one of the irreplaceable original FrankLloyd Wright Windows was broken. That evening, after spécialclass dinners at the Quadrangle Club and the Center for Con-tinuing Education, the alumni had their choice between amédical symposium on mental retardation in Mandel Hall anda playreading of two Edward Albee plays— serious, philosophi-cal inquiries into the nature of time and reality.There were two graduation cérémonies on Friday, for thegraduate and professional schools, attended by some few re-turning alumni, both of which were addressed by ProfessorAllison Davis, the first John Dewey Distinguished ServiceProfessor of Education at the University (see "Age of Angerand Fear"). His address was inspired, in part, by the killingsof students at Kent State in Ohio and Jackson State Collègein Mississippi.Saturday morning, alumni in Mandel Hall heard Hans J.Morgenthau speak on a new foreign policy for the UnitedStates. He told his audience that our foreign policy "is déficient in three basic respects. First of ail, it has become obsolète. Secondly, it dérives from a picture of the world whichis fundamentally at odds with the real world, and finally...it is administered, and has been administered for some time,by men who are morally not strong enough to do what isneeded." What is needed, according to Morgenthau, is a récognition of the fact that we live in a policentric world that wecannot try to govern by self-serving rules fashioned décadesand centuries ago.Saturday morning too was the time for the Collège gradua tion cérémonies also attended by some alumni and by 250 outof a graduating class of 400. Dean of the Collège RogerHildebrand spoke. "The news of the world is rubble, refugees,and body counts. We wonder what to do about it hère thatcould not be done as well at Diploma-mill Collège. We hardlyrecall the vision of the idéal collège we once sought. Thatvision is a victim of the war.... This is an appropriate time toask what is at stake in the défense of the University.... We maypoint to the Athenian Assembly among institutions whichhâve mistaken their own purposes. After délibération the Assembly voted to kill Socrates. Socrates himself stayed out ofpolitics. He aligned himself with no party and argued for noplatform. He inquired into the nature of justice and the nature of the idéal state. His was teaching that rightly shouldhâve stood or fallen on its own validity as intellectual in-quiry....The University should protect and cultivate intellectualinquiry. Our strength lies in the integrity of that function.There are many for whom intellectual integrity is a threat. Ifthere is to be anyone who cares about its survival, it must beyou."(A "counter-convocation" was held in the Blue Gargoylecoffee shop. William Kunstler, chief défense attorney for theConspiracy Seven trial, spoke to the dissenting graduâtes, warn-ing them against an "unchecked reign of terror" growing in theUnited States. )Noon, Saturday, saw the présentation of the alumni awards ata luncheon given in Hutchinson Commons and attended pri-marily by alumnae. (What is it that puts men off at the word"luncheon"? ) Howard Johnson, AM'47, président of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, accepted the Alumni Medal"for extraordinary distinction in one's field of specializationand extraordinary service to society," with a speech that analyzedthe many gaps that divide our society: the génération gap, therace gap, the class gap, the intellectual gap, the organization gap,the technology gap, the military-civilian gap, and the sex gap."I cannot tell you how to bridge thèse gaps except to tell you wemust work harder, a great deal harder, to understand them Man's grasp on what he calls civilization has always been atenuous one We are not as civilized as we thought. The basicquestion that arises then is, simply, can so many people find away to live together? . . . If we are going to get this process goingagain, there is literally, ladies and gentlemen, no time to lose."Saturday afternoon Président and Mrs. Edward H. Levi openedtheir home and gardens at a réception for alumni. Some 25016alumni came, some obviously merely curious to see how theélégant mansion had been stamped by the personality of thenew président. The gardens, though no longer personally tendedby thé hand of the président as they were in the days of GeorgeBeadte, were still beautiful.There were more tours of the campus that afternoon and classdinners at the Quadrangle Club and the Center that evening.The Interfratêrnity Sing in lantern-lit Hutchinson Court endedReunion weekend in a traditional, lighthearted way. Despite thedesperately troubled times, despite the deep concern of ail thespeakers throughout Reunion weekend, they sang to "call backyesterday, bid time return."THE ALUMNI AWARDSThe Alumni Medal is awarded for extraordinary distinction inone's field of specialization and extraordinary service to society.The medalist for 1970 is Howard Wesley Johnson, AM'47.The Alumni Citations honor those who hâve fulfilled theobligations of their éducation through créative citizenship andexemplary leadership in community service which has benefittedsociety and reflected crédit upon the University. The citées for1970 are: Lowell Howard Bennett, JD'50; Dorothy KurgansGoldberg, PhB'33; James Fulton Hoge, Jr., AM'61; DuncanElliott Littlefair, PhD'40; James J. McClure, Jr., AB'42, JD'47;Andrew Lee Thomas, AB'57, SB'57 (md Howard University);the Honorable Matthew E. Welsh, JD'37; Bernard Zagorin,AB'42, AM'48.The Professiônal Achievement Awards recognize those alumni whose attainments in their vocational fields hâve broughtdistinction to themselves, crédit to the University, and real bene-fit to their fellow citizens. The awardees for 1970 are: ArnaWendell Bontemps, AM'43; Charles Vernon Hamilton, AM'57,phD'64; Norman Hilberry, PhD'41; Robert S. Jason, PhD'32; JohnH. Johnson, '42; William Rea Keast, AB'36, PhD'47; NathanielKleitman, PhD'23; Paul Snowden Russell, PhB'44, SB'45, MD'47;Léo Tolstoy Samuels, PhD^o.The Howell Murray Awards were established in honor of adistinguished alumnus and trustée to recognize graduating students for outstanding contributions to the University's extracurriculum. The awardees for 1970 are: David Bensman, Edwin"Pete" Douglass, Ann Miriam Garfield, Thomas Andrew Harris,Jr., Robert James Kiesling, Judy May Larson, Timothy VincentMcGree, William Liasson Phillips, James Bertram Rebhan, andJean Carolyn Wikler. "AGE OF ANGER AND FEAR," ALLISON DAVISIn this Age of Fear, one sees few men of hope and courage. Onetherefore remembers Adlai Stevenson, who spoke for life, andwho may hâve been the world's last chance to save itself fromself-destruction. Just after Russia had placed its atomic missilesin Cuba, when two insane world giants were threatening thelives of ail of us, Stevenson joined two eminent scientists in aprogram celebrating the seventy-fifth anniversary of the found-ing of the University of Chicago. They discussed our chances forsurvival in a nuclear war. One soon learned that the gentlemenof science knew infinitely more than Adlai about the potentialeffects of the bomb. For an hour ànd twenty minutes before theyallowed Adlai to speak, they piled up images of death. They triedto overwhelm him at the start by pointing out that there was nodéfense against nuclear missiles. They they proceeded, withgreat pride in their intellectual agility, to describe the wholerange of monstrous deaths and even more terrible cripplings ofmankind, to which we should look forward. They painted thehorrible images of final nuclear doom— of the Inferno of thefinal blast, of the treacherous fallout, sliding upon us ail, of thehorrible burns and the blindness and the bone cancers and bloodcancers of those who survived, and finally they portrayed thesurvivors' offspring, the product of those gènes which had mu-tated under atomic radiation— and produced a génération ofmonsters.At this point, ail of us felt we were livirig in a hopelessly insane world where life itself was granted at the mad whimsy ofthe nuclear powers. Why plan? Why bear children? Why work?Such goals now appeared empty rituals in a world where everyhope had vanished.At this point, when fewer than ten minutes were left, thehelplessly depressed men of science turned to Stevenson andasked how we might escape the hopeless labyrinth within whichthey and the politicians hâve entrapped man?"Gentlemen," replied Adlai, "this reminds me of a story. AndI believe you hâve left me just time enough to tell it. Last month,my nièce, who is becoming a young lady, was enjoying her six-teenth birthday party, and her uncle, as one is apt to do on suchoccasions, expressed his surprise at her growth. 'My dear,' hesaid 'in just a few years you will be twenty-one. And what doyou want to be then?' And my nièce, dancing away, her cheeksflushed, her eyes sparkling, cried, lOh, I want to be olive!Alive!'"Stevenson then concluded, "And so do the Russians, so do the17Chinese, and so do we. I am certain we will ail feel just asstrongly about living, tomorrow, and a year from now, and agénération from now."The thrust for life!— not for death; the détermination to seizelife and explore its possibilities for creativity and strength,rather than to scuttle the ship.Either by chance or design, man possesses the one apparenttfiumph of the universe, life! the incredible human brain andbody. The sun, which men worshipped for millenia, is a pillarof burning gases. The planet Venus which poets hâve loved forthousands of years, is an Inferno raging at ten times the heat ofboiling water. And the lovely moon is dead. But man has thesuprême achievement of the universe, life, and the capacity todirect and enjoy it.Although we seem trapped in an Age of Anger and Despair,the alternatives remain the same as in ail other âges. We canscuttle— or we can sail the seas. Navigare necesse est, vivere nonnecesse. One must chart course and set sail; it is not enoughmerely to exist.But we are ail angry with life, and with each other. Everygroup in our society now feels its interests threatened; everygroup lashes out in rage or resentment at some, or ail, of theothers. A récent Harris Poil reports that the so-called affluentmiddle class feels heavy taxation threatens its very foundation,i.e. the éducation of its offspring; it believes its stake, its chanceto improve its own and its children's économie and social status,is in danger, and that its code, its sexual and moral défenses, arebeing swept away.At the same time, the radical left feels threatened and ex-ploited by both government and corporate wealth; it is enragedto the, point of suicidai défiance, or of murder, by the arrogantpower of government and the économie princes, who play withthe lives of our young men in stupid wars, or who brazenlydemand that youth bend its own back before the Big Lie.And now the libérais, emerging from their shock, and swal-lowing their hurt pride at having been charged with hypocrisy,self-righteousness, the more sophisticated forms of racism, be-gin at last to stand up for themselves again, and to fight backagainst the blows rained upon them by ail groups (none ofwhom has yet accomplished any social or économie changescomparable to those won by fighting libérais during the nearlyf orty years from the days of the New Deal to the death of MartinLuther King).Black Americans, who hâve been hère since 1619, hâve seenit ail before. They can already smell the smoke and blood. Thefear, the intimidation, the murder, the disfranchisement, the eternal économie dépression. With the murder of Martin LutherKing, the anger of most American blacks turned to despair. Mostblack adults hâve turned cynical, for they realize that no onegrew angry or indignant during those forty years when morethan 2,300 black women and men were lynched and burned atthe stake in this country, a bloodbath unparalleled in the worlduntil the Nazi beast arose. And blacks realize that practically noone protested or stood up against murder when black collègeyouth were shot in the back and killed two years ago in Orange-burg, South Carolina, and last month in Jackson, Mississippi—murdered by deputy state police, especially "deputized" for thisparticular carnival of killing our boys and girls.So it is no wonder that many black young Americans feel out-raged; they still find no freedom, and still are barred from goodjobs by the white labor unions. Moreover, the whole game seemslikely to go up in nuclear bombing before they get their longdeferred chance to make their run for rewards which the Irishand the Germans and the Swedes hâve had their opportunity toThe last groups and the most ominous, the hard hats, theWallacites, the know-nothings, and the war-party (ail safe athome ) , show their rage by storming New York's city hall, or bymarching in Chicago to the Picasso statue, many of them arm-in-arm with the white policemen, who spur on this hard-hatkind of démonstration. So ail groups in the American societyhâve their bellies filled with anger.But beneath the anger lies fear. For instance, the first and mostbasic feeling of any subordinated group, such as black Americans, to a far more powerful group, such as white Americans, isfear— fear of attack, fear of violence, fear of being starved, fearof the rope and faggot.But fear is always à painful tension, accompanied by physicaldiscomfort, by inner attacks of shame and loss of self -respect,and by decreased ability to enjoy life. Thèse painful émotionslead in most normal people to a défense against the fear andshame. This défense takes the form of anger, the wish to reassertone's existence, one's self -respect, and to overcome the shameand guilt of fear by the "power" of one's anger. Such anger is acounter-phobiç (against fear) reaction; it is a défense againstthe powerful and paralyzing fear. If a reckless driver almost runsover you, your first reaction is powerful fear, the terror of beingannihilated. Immediately thereafter, your rage at the driverbursts forth; it is your défense against your fear of death.In our society, we hâve many groups and a vast number ofindividuals who are angry, because they are frightened. Thewhite middle class is frightened; minority groups are frightened;18libérais are frightened by the move to the right; students arefrightened by the war and now by the f act that they may be shotunarmed; the hard hats are frightened by the apparent upheavalin a System which is just beginning to pay off handsomely forthem. And black Americans are frightened.In this country, the black person has had to bow his head topersécution and oppression for over 300 years. For whites hâveseemed all-powérful; they hâve had the physical force, the riggedjudges and courts, the mob power of iife-and-death, withoutbenefit of trial, whenever and wherever whites wished to wieldthat power against a Negro American. The Suprême Court ofthe United States upheld and bulwarked the slave-like System ofségrégation for 150 years. There was no place to run for justice.Under that System of brutal oppression, the black father andmother taught their child to bow, rather than to risk annihilationby the powerful whites. Lynching (200 to 300 each year) sys-tematically bore in the tesson. In ail relationships with whites,the black child was taught that self -assertion and even self-defense were suicidai.This self-subordination was not taught by the black parent asmoral, but as a means of survival m an unjust, murderous andimmoral society. Self-humiliation and self:derogation weretaught by the black chiid's parents as justified by the reality System, by the désire to stay alive in the face of the most brutal, themost barbarous System of peonage, disfranchisement, and physical intimidation in the world.But anger is one of the most powerful drives. It cannot beobliterated; it must find some outlet. Black anger and disillusion-ment still exist everywhere in the Negro slums of our cities. Inthe final analysis, the basic problem of black leaders is how totransform and direct this anger into constructive action— actionto remedy the social and économie attacks that cause the fear,and then the anger. There always has been a lot of anger towardwhites, on the part of Negroes. It has resulted from their beingsystematically subordinated in ail areas of human life. But thisanger always had to be inhibked, since the white society seemedall-powerful. The average American Negro suppressed his angerso powerfully and so long that, in many cases, it was hidden evenfrom himself. But now it is no longer suppressed."Black" anger frightens white people— although blacks hâvenot attacked white people, nor shot their children, nor exploitedthem, nor ruled them, nor set their National Guard or statepolice upon them. Black resentment frightens white people because they feel guilty.But suddenly, now, the stage turns, and we face a new scène.I was living in Berlin in the winter of 1932-33. 1 saw the burning of the Books; I saw the closing of the University of Berlin. Thatuniversity was closed not by students, but by the government,while the Brown Shirts attacked students, minority groups, pro-fessors, intellectuals and non-Nazi politicians, in the name ofthe Right.When the white hard-hat workers attacked and severely beatthe white collège students in New York, and when the OhioNational Guard shot the unarmed Kent University white girlsand boys, it suddenly became clear that students, intellectuals,the learned professions, the universities themselves had beendefined as the new targets, the new scapegoats. Students, facul-ties, and administrators can now find themselves ail in the sameboat, and they may well hang separately if they do not hangtogether. Ail of us in collèges and universities will hâve to saveourselves or be run into the ground. AU of us, black-white;student-faculty; poor-affluent, now hâve to gird ourselves to facea common danger.James Baldwin, a black son of poverty-stricken parents inHarlem, could not go to collège, but he worked hard and learnedto write the finest prose in America, according to Edmund Wil-son, the dean of American literary critics. Baldwin has writtenthat the white man's fear and anger today really are his fear oflife, his terror at death. But, he points out, it is not fear of death,but the challenge of life which should spur us on. "One is respon-sible to life. It is the small beacon in that terrifying darknessfrom which we corne and to which we shall return. One mustnegotiate this passage as nobly as possible, for the sake of thosewho are coming after us. . . . It is the responsibility of f ree mento trust and to celebrate what is constant (birth, struggle, anddeath are constant, and so is love, though we may not alwaysthink so) and to apprehend the nature of change, to be able andwiiling to change."Now to those of you who are launching your careers in stormywaters, I should like to quote again the words with which Ibegan. Navigare necesse est, vivere non necesse. It is not neces-sary to yield to despair. Epictetus, the great stoic philosopher,was a slave and a cripple in Rome 2,000 years ago. Most menwould hâve wanted to collapse under such misfortunes, or atbest would hâve tried only to endure. But Epictetus made himself the intellectual leader of his âge. And still today, his wordsspeak to the spirits of men: "How long will you wait to deemyourself worthy of the best? Immediately then think it right tolive as a fuli-grown man, and one who is making progress— andif anything iaborious, or pleasant, or glorious be presented toyou, remember that now is the contest, now are the Olympicgames, and they cannot be deferred," Navigare!19V^J'uWM r>, 1 jJ,1 rT-HMe^ V-^fâIH,. j|• ».osques and minarets notwith-standing, our pictures show the Midway of1 893, the scène of the world s ColumbianExposition. What is now the sward forstrolls, some Laboratory School athletics,and ice-skating in the winter, was once a-swarm with dômes and steeples and bandsand peoples.The Paris Exposition of 1889 had left onelasting landmark, the Eiffel Tower, andit was hoped that Chicago too would retainsome similarly lasting monument. Afterlong délibération and contention, Exposition managers granted a concession to anengineer from Galesburg, Illinois, namedGeorge Washington Gale Ferris, who hadan idea for a gigantic wheel that most engi-neers firmly asserted could not and wouldnot work.And so the Ferris wheel was born. Asuper colossal baby, brought to life by nineof the largest steel plants in the country,erected on f oundations that had to be sunkthirty-five feet below the surface throughtwenty feet of quicksand, and when com- pleted had thirty-six perféctly revolvingcars, each of which could comf ortablycarry forty passengers, or approximately1,500 people, a baby that earned the fairand Mr. Ferris $1,500 a day. As the com-bined weight of the passengers would onlycorne to approximately 150 tons as opposedto the 1,300 tons of his wheel, Mr. Ferristended to regard ail those passengers "asso many Aies."The other pictures in our Call Back Yes-terday memory album show the men ofSnell Hall, when it was the only dormitoryassigned to undergraduate men and was acenter of University life for the men of theCollège, and Ryerson Physical Laboratorysoon after its completion in 1894. (Pleasenote the lonely woman in the lab. ) MartinA. Ryerson, who made the main contribution of $150,000 in honor of his father, saidat the opening cérémonies "We are livingin an âge of marvels . . . The University ofChicago naturally desires to be one of theleaders in the scientific progress of theworld. It recognizes the importance of nat-ural science as a field, not only for thè in struction of its students, but also for theefforts of its investigators . . . Science willcorrect our errors and elevate, not destroy,our ideals. It will sweep away our unrea-soning superstitions, but at the same timeincrease our admiration and vénération forthe great First Cause of ail the wonders itdiscloses . . . Gentlemen of the Board ofTrustées of the University of Chicago, Inow tender to you the Ryerson PhysicalLaboratory."Note too another lonely but liberatedwoman, Zonia Baber, gathering fossils a'tMazon Creek in 1895. She was a memberof a geology field class taught by the greatT. C. Chamberlin. His was the first fieldclass to which women were admitted.Zonia Baber later taught at the Universityand died at a grand old âge in 1936.The final picture shows more liberatedwomen working out in the gymnasium.Women did not participate publicly insports, except for a basketball team of ailthings, but they were obviously expectedto shape up or ship out. '22I*» «>•?«¦»«¦*'•fli «S«Ci.\J**1 J-Jmm 1my^r ¦u .1 LIW «f.tt •*"¦ > L- -JLA J%*^^ % *•• /HH^^BH-^ ^¦¦^_- 1^^^^ fm -1mm*t*.***^^ ,•The Ferris wheel, alas, did not remainas a lasting monument to the nineties, andit was sorely missed. An anonymous bardpenned thèse lines in the Cap and Gownof 1895:How strange the campus vista seems,What changeful quiet hère;What is the thought of things forgot?What makes it seem so queer?A silence speaks through ail the oaksAnd tells what we would say,Pray is it, that with ail the new,We miss the old Midway?Across the road where once aroseA hundred dômes and steeples,Where ail the air was f ull of noiseFrom bands ànd drums and peoples;No sound goes up, the air is still,The place how changed to-day!A barren waste, a strip of sand—We miss the old Midway.Still sometimes when, our purse is full,Our dreamy thoughts repairTo Cairo street, the Ferris wheelAnd side-shows of the Fair.Again we long to go and spendOur money for the play;We do not know 'tis better soTo miss the old Midway.27i m ¦ ¦j(7>J Z'«tPaul GappTHE NEW NEWSNMNNews média people hâve been taking quite a beating in the lastyear or two. Fédéral commissions hâve poked at the innards ofthe communications business and corne up with massive reportson its alleged ills. Vice Président Spiro Agnew has hinted thathe is less than satisfied with the quality and style of reportage.Public opinion poils indicate that major segments of the U. S.public attach little credibility to what they read in the news-papers.The documentable truth, however, is that U. S. news média—particularly newspapers— are of higher quality than ever before,that collectively they offer coverage of a scope and depth un-known before World War II, and that their performance issuperior to that of their counterparts in the other countries ofthe free world and in the three-quarters of the earth's nationswhere the média operate under some degree of governmentalcontrol.At the University of Chicago a new program is under way tohelp newspapers (and, in the future, broadcasting stations) im-prove one of their most important areas of coverage: urbanproblems. A bit of history will help put the program in perspective.TheOld-TimerThe old-time newspapermen unconsciously lived up to thestereotyped images of themselves, later portrayed in WarnerBrothers movies, pulp fiction, and in biographies by sentimentalex-newsmen, where the Hearst editor tells every cub reporter"Son, the people who read newspapers are interested in onlythree things: blood, money, and sex."A lot of thèse old-timers were loners who floated from job tojob like their cousins- in-spirit, the tramp printers. An appallingnumber of them were drunks, and the much-cherished trick wasto keep turning out copy while one was bombed out of one'smind. This did little for accuracy, not to mention style.A few held degrees, but for most éducation had ended in high school or before. A brilliant minority began their careers ondailies and ever after fondly recalled their newspaper days, butsoon moved into other endeavors. Cari Sandburg and JamesThurber are but two examples. Sandburg, who worked for theChicago Daily News, regarded deadlines as infinitely stretch-able. Thurber, who broke in at the Columbus (Ohio) Dispatch,was given to such eccentric behavior as hiding in a janitor'scloset at the public library and creating pandemonium by blow-ing loud blasts'on a tuba.This is not to say that newspapers were an across-the-boardfailure back in the glory days. The first Pulitzer Prizes were,after ail, awarded in 19 17, and justly deserved. Major publicservice was rendered by many dailies. But at the same time, in-çredible publications like the New York Graphie were airbrush-ing the clothing off photographs of, prominent people and run-ning the fake-nude pictures on page one. Bloody circulationwars were fought in the streets of big cities by hired hoodlumswho rode delivery trucks and sent the employées of competingpapers to the hospital or the grave. "Yellow" journàlism hadearned its name.Today 's newspapers are vastly superior primarily because thebest of the people who put them together make most of theold-timers look like crétins. The reporters and editors are bettereducated, more aware, committed to ideals which some of theold boys never even thought about and, if you will excuse a slipinto patois, a hell of a lot more hip.The New NewsmanA bright, articulate, literate, tough-minded, and independentnew breed of newsman has corne into being since World WarIL He can, perhaps, quote eighteenth century French poetry andspeak Russian as well as German and French. Unlike the seedyold boys, he has heeded Stewart Alsop's now classic suggestionthat "ail reporters should dress like Wall Street bankers." He(or she) is equally expert and at ease whether interviewing a30high-ranking diplomat, running a land title search on a slumlandlord, or covering a five-alarm fire.This young new genus of newsman, who can also be foundin radio and télévision, knows that the old hack techniques ofjournalism are dead. He is unafraid of innovation, of turning astory inside out or upside down if traditional structuring won'tdo. In many instances, he is also in favor of that controversialpractice known as "advocacy" reporting, which means he blends,informed opinion with straight facts'.Most importantly, he knows ten times as much about mostsubjects as his forbear of the thirties who kept a pint of OldCabin Still in the bottom desk drawer and spat into his wasté-basket before shouting, in dramatic tones, for a copy boy.Who knows what our newspapers would be like had not thisnew breed of journalist evolved? One thinks of airbrushed pho-tographs of Mr. Agnew and things like that.The new reporter has, of course, met with résistance amongsome editors who attended journalism school thirty-five yearsago, who consider the mental âge of their readers to be twelve,or who are af raid to inflict so much as a pinprick on the hides oflocal power structure types or advertisers. Sadly, the frustrated,disenchanted reporter may leave the business after a few yearsand either apply his talents where they are appreciated or sîmplysell his brain to the highest bidder. Some begin publishingjournals of their own, such as The Chicago Journalism Review,in protest.But to put things back in perspective: Today 's press, whilenot without serious flaws, is demonstrably doing the best jobsince Benjamin Harris published the nation's first newspaper in1690. The "new journalism" is rooted in the ranks of dedicatedreporters who, one hopes, will one day become editors. And thejob they're doing is the toughest job in the history of masscommunication.It is extraordinarily difficult because man's aiïairs hâve become so excruciatingly complicated. The reporting of ecological,political, societal, technological, économie and other problemsis not like covering the af orementioned five-alarm fire. To findout about the fire, one searches until he finds the man wearingthe white hat (the chief ) and then asks a list of standard questions learned by expérience, or rote. But to find out, say, even alittle about air pollution, or expressway design, or the ModelCities Program, one immediately encounters twenty-five chiefs,each of whom usually claims to possess the only set of answersworthy of attention. A bit later, it becomes obvious that one must consult a dozen other chiefs to make sensé out of what thefirst twenty-five were saying. This is urban journalism in the1970's.Récognition of this dilemma was one of the things whichgrew out of the University of Chicago's Center for Policy Studyconférence on "The Media and the Cities" in May, 1968. Itbecame clear that journalists— particularly those covering thefield of urban affairs— could improve their expertise substantiallyif offered opportunities for specialized study in an académiesetting. This conclusion led to development of the Center'sUrban Journalism Fellowship program which began as a pilotproject with two reporters in 1969 and attained fully structuredstatus in 1970.Five youngish but experienced news people were selectedfrom among competing applicants throughout the United Statesto become Fellows of the Center in the program which ran fromJanuary to June of this year. They were Roger T. Flaherty, 31,urban affairs reporter for the Lerner newspapers of Chicago;John D. Harlow, 25, a news editor of the Associated Pressbureau in New York City; Ladley K. Pearson, 26, a reporter forthe Newark (New Jersey) News; Whittier Sengstacke, Jr., 25,associate editor of the Tri-State Defender in Memphis, Tennessee; and Betty Washington, 33, a reporter for the Chicago DailyNews.The ProgramThe first time the five ever saw each other was on January 4 at awelcoming lunch held for them at Morton's Restaurant, justacross the park from the Muséum of Science and Industry. Thetempérature failed to rise above zéro that day and the restaurante heating System conked out, but the camaraderie whichbinds news people everywhere exploded as if on schedule andthe babble of shop talk at first made it difficult to squeeze in afew introductory words about the program. And in the next fewweeks, though it requires considérable psychic gearshifting toswitch from the din of a newsroom to the relative peace of thecampus, the group seemed to make the transition with equalease.Paul Gapp, the coordinator of the Urban Journalism programhère described, was for sixte en years a news reporter specializingin urban affairs. In 1965 he was co-winner of the AssociatedPress award for excellence in reporting.3iFlaherty is a stocky, soft-spoken ex-priest who works for oneof the biggest neighborhood newspaper chains in the nation.He is married to a pretty young woman named Dolores andlives in a North Side apartment decorated with art posters anddominated by a gigantic, high-backed armchair which Flahertycalls his "throne," a seat of power occasionally shared withguests. The big, easygoing Irishman, whose sartorial taste runsto sport coats and unspeakably wild neckties, employs a decep-tively mild approach to interviewing people which is gorgeousto watch because so few reporters possess it. His subjects fre-quently tell him things they had no intention of telling beforethey realize they hâve been soft-talked out of the information.More than one Pulitzer Prize has been won with the help ofsuch magie. If there was a senior member of our Fellows group,a kind of father figure (no pun) , it was Flaherty.Then there was John Harlow, a native New Zealander with acharming if sometimes opaque accent, an inexhaustible supplyof energy, a penchant f or organizing his time down to the milli-second, a thirst for adventure, and a moustache which he raisedafter arriving on campus. Harlow, who has free-lanced in VietNam, is the sort of man who, after reaching the summit ofEverest, would say, "Well, chaps, let's run back down now andtry it again from a more difficult side— -this time without ropesor any of that nonsense." He carried out his University assign-ments with skill and zeal, but still found time to organize skitrips, work for the campus radio station and newspaper, driveto Albuquerque and back in quest of research material on citydevelopment, and seek out attractive young ladies with whomhe could share his considérable talent as a dancer. And if Harlowprogrammed himself to leave a party at precisely midnight because he had chosen to arise at six the next morning to read 200pages on Byzantine architecture— well, the young lady had toaccept that.Tall, lanky Ladley Pearson arrived on campus with a brandnew bride, Eileen, who had served with him on the staff of theNewark News. Newark is, in many ways, one of the mostravaged cities of the United States— a kind of urbanologist'snightmare, and everywhere Pearson went in Chicago, peopleasked him about Newark's record of political corruption, itsshaky economy, its grave racial problems. Pearson f ed them f ast,articulate answers and followed up with, an equal number ofquestions about Chicago. Particularly interested in public hous-ing and plans for constructing a big new complex of low incomedwelling units in Newark, he found plenty of material for study in Chicago, beginning with the monumentally monstrous RobertR. Taylor housing project which created a high-rise ghetto onSouth State Street.Whittier Sengstacke, Jr., who claims to hold the world'srecord for losing baggage mishandled by airlines, landed atO'Hare Airport on that aforementioned frigid day in Januarywhile his three-suiter continued on to Honolulu aboard anotherflight. He dismissed the incbnvenience with a grin, a joke, anda set of disarming mannerisms which project his particularbrand of charm. Sengstacke is a native of Chicago, where blackjournalists ôf talent face no particular obstructions in diggingout the news. As associate editor of the Tri-State Defender inMemphis, however, his battles against préjudice hâve becomecommonplace. In the South the power of a press card often dépends on the color of one's skin, and Sengstacke's is black. He'shad some close calls in Mississippi. Sengstacke's mission as aFellow was twofold: to acquire a new foundation of knowledgeabout the complex problems which afflict urban centers, and torelate this knowledge to the goal of improving his own newspaper and— ultimately— to the upgrading of black publicationsin gênerai.If you had met Betty Washington for the first time and spentten minutes indulging in a bit of small talk with her, you mightguess that she is married, the mother of , say, four children, activein things like thé PTA and block groups, and résident in a ratherpleasant black middle-class neighborhood. And you would beright on every point. But Mrs. Washington is also a sharp, no-nonsense, highly skilled reporter who, among other things, prob-ably knows as much about the Model Cities Program as anyonein Chicago, not excluding the people who are running it. As areporter for one of the nations largest and most powerful newspapers, she can seareff out and write about the successes, f ailuresand crucial importance of community organisations which serveas an antidote, at least, to the gigantism of big government andthe overconcentration of power. In what passes for her "leisure"time, she can put her knowledge to work in her own neighbor*hood. As a natural extension of this spécial interest, Mrs. Wash-ington's research at the University was devoted to the rôlesplayed by community groups in improving schools, municipalservices and the quality of urban life.Each Fellow engaged in a research project of his own sélection, the end product of which was a paper submitted to theCenter (some or ail of thèse may be published). But researchwas only one part of the program.32The challenge in organizing the Urban Journalism programwas to strike an effective balance between purely cérébral exercises and the gutsier kinds of activities which news people andtheir editors demand.Each Fellow audited three urban affairs courses of his choiceat undergraduate and graduate levels. Ail attended dozens oftwo-hour seminars arranged for them. Seminar participants in-cluded faculty members, business and professional men, politi-cians, and leaders in such fields as city and régional planning,public administration, race relations, architecture, zohing, trans-portation, pollution control, sociology, welf are, communications,public health, éducation, and law.A fairly typical day might find the Fellows attending classesin the morning, hurrying downtown for an afternoon seminaron new towns with a real estate developer, and spending theevening at a campus lecture on how computers can help solveinner city problems.Along the way, the journalists participated in a number offringe activities— some planned for them and others of theirown making. They attended such functions as a Center spon-sored conférence on science priorities and fédéral funding, afive-lecture séries titled "Scientists Look at Our Cities," andperiodic seminars sponsored by the Center for Urban Studies.The latter organization has worked closely with the Center forPolicy Study in the field of urban affairs.The journalists met with members of Chicago's print andbroadcast news média and with campus visitors ranging fromCharles Bartlett, the syndicated news columnist, to Edgar Faure,former premier of France.What did the journalism Fellows gain in their six months ofintensive study? In classroom work, seminars, research and read-ing, the journalists obviously absorbed far more informationgermane to their specialty than they could hope to acquire byany other means. Their exposure-in-depth to the full constellation of urban problems enabled them to discern the almost end-less interrelationships among such problems.They learned to be wary of simplistic thinking, superficial"solutions," pie-in-the-sky panaceas, and publicity-seeking pol-iticians or self-proclaimed experts whose ideas, however hollow,hâve a way of making headlines. It is true that newsmen hâve away of developing a healthy, gênerai sort of skepticism. But inurban affairs, it requires spécial expertise to screen out the solidwastes fed to the média through special-interest pipelines.The Fellows learned that reporting-in-depth sometimes means digging far deeper than they ever anticipated, and that drawingupon the académie resources of any sound university in theirhome communities is often the best way to begin.Few outsiders are aware that within the média there are constant battles between specialist reporters and their superiors.The specialist requires more time to develop a story than, say, aman covering routine "spot" news or the county court house. Heoften requires more space to tell his story. The editor, on theother hand, is pressured by the need to squeeze as many storiesas possible into limited space which varies day by day. The dailybattles between editors and specialist writers often déterminehow much news about a given subject is dispensed to millionsof readers— and how competently it is reported.The hope is that past and future Fellows will not only be bet-ter equipped to "sell" their superiors on the need for adéquatetime and space, but that they will themselves rise into manage-rial news positions and thus call the shots on such matters aswhether a new city transportation plan rates more space than asensational murder. Managerial potential is one of the criteriaon which applicants for the program are judged.The next six-month Urban Journalism Fellowship programwill begin in January, 1971. The number of participating journalists will be doubled to ten, and a major effort is underway torecruit applicants from télévision and radio stations as well asnewspapers and magazines. As before, each Fellow will receivea stipend to cover living costs and full payment of tuition, assistance in obtaining housing and other services.And what of the five journalists who are "alumni" of theprogram? In the few months since their departure, ^ignificantthings hâve already begun to happen. Sengstacke has been pro-moted to editorship of the Tri-State Defender. Flaherty 's editorshâve asked him to broaden the scope of his urban affairs coverage in, Chicago. Harlow is seriously considering a totally newcareer as a city planner. Pearson and Betty Washington arepursuing their specialties with new vigor and success. The NewNewsmen are on their way.Many of the académie strengths of the University hâve beenapplied to the study and solution of the ills which afflict thenation's troubled cities. A well-informed public is an absolutenecessity in terms of supporting innovative, créative, expérimental approaches to preventing urban chaos and improvingthe urban dweller's quality of life. It is this ultimate communications goal to which the Urban Journalism Fellowship programis dedicated.33Quadrangk V\(ewsFord Foundation GrantThe University of Chicago has received athree-year grant of $1,850,000 from the FordFoundation for the continuation of an urbanstudies program. The new grant supplémentsa previous one of $3,000,000.Commenting on the grant, McGeorgeBundy, président of the Ford Foundation, said"The Foundation is pleased to be able to continue to support the University in this effort.In particular we are impressed with the im-provement in the relations between the University and the immediately surroundingneighborhoods and with the original andpromising program for training teachers foreffective work in ghetto schools. In this teachertraining program the University's GraduateSchool of Education and the Chicago schoolSystem are working very closely and effectivelytogether."The largest single item in the grant, $800,-000, is for a spécial program to train qualifiedteachers and other personnel for public schoolsin the inner city. Other items in the grant arefellowships in the Center for Urban Studies;Laboratory for Urban Analysis; Center for theStudy of Welfare Policy in the School of SocialService Administration; Internship Programin the Law School; small faculty research proj-ects in the Center for Urban Studies; and Center for Policy Study's Urban Journalism Fellowship Program.NurseryA nursery where children who may be mentallyretarded can be observed for médical évaluation has opened in the Pédiatrie Mental Development Clinic in the Silvain and ArmaWyler Children's Hospital of the University ofChicago Hospitals and Clinics. The nurseryis designed for pre-school children whose évaluation requires long periods of observation asthey play and participate in groups.An observation room adjacent to the nursery provides a direct view of the children'splay area, and facilities for closed circuit télévision monitoring and taping are available.The Pédiatrie Mental Development Clinicis the Clinical opération of the Joseph P. Ken nedy, Jr. Mental Retardation Research Centerin the Department of Pediatrics. The researchcenter, the construction of which was fundedby the Kennedy Foundation, includes researchlaboratories in neurology, virology, biochemis-try, and human genetics in the Wyler Children's Hospital, and the children receive optimum care regardless of their family's finances.Usually they corne in one of two peak periodswhen it is noticed that they are not developingnormally for their âge. The first cornes at aboutthe âge of two, when they may be having trouble with common physical abilities. The second peak cornes soon after a child has begunschool. Thesè are children who are not easilyunderstood, for whom évaluation is impossibleby standard testing. Their problems may be amixture of retardation, emotional disturbance,or response to organic disease or deafness.Thèse children require long periods of observation in group situations, and that is whatthe new observation nursery will allow.Fédéral Cutbacks on CancerFédéral cutbacks of fifteen to twenty per centare seriously threatening cancer research andtraining at the University of Chicago.One major center, the Argonne Cancer Research Hospital, part of the University's hospitals and clinics, this year received $300,000less than its projected needs. The hospital issupported by the Atomic Energy Commission.The sudden cuts are forcing réductions instaff, preventing purchase of new equipment,limiting training programs, and generallyforcing économies which could hamper on-going research.At the University of Chicago there is nosingle department devoted solely to cancerresearch.Dr. Werner Kirsten, professor of pathologyand pediatrics, studies the mechanism by whichnornial cells are changed to cancer cells afterinfection with leukemia virus. When he of-f ered a new grant proposai to the NationalInstitutes of Health (NIH) , he received onlyten per cent of the funds he had requested. Asa resuit, he expects that his work, which iscentral to an understanding of the nature of leukemia, will be slowed down by at least fif typer cent, if not more.Dr. Zdenek Hruban, associate professor inthe Department of Pathology, studies the nature of liver tumors in rats. His funds for1969-70 were eut ten per cent, and he expects asimilar eut for the coming year. Because ofthis, he will not be able to buy électron microscope accessories which would speed up hiswork.Ronald Harvey, a chemist and an associateprofessor in the Ben May Laboratory for Cancer Research, studies how certain hydrocarbonscause cancer. When his three-year grant fromthe NIH ran out this year, there were no fundsavailable. With help from the University,Harvey is continuing his work, but he pro-jects a f orty to fifty per cent slowdown in hisresearch.Kenneth Bott, an assistant professor of mi-crobiology and biology and in the Collège,studies simple single-cell bacteria as models ofdifferentiation— the way selected functions ofcells are triggered by différent groups of gènesin the cell. Many types of cancer are character-ized by loss of differentiation since cancer pre-vents the proper f unctioning of gènes andrégulation is lost. By trying to understand thenature of differentiation on the basic level,.Bott hopes to gain a better understanding ofcancer.Bott's National Science Foundation (NSF)and American Cancer Society grants ran putlast year. His renewal application to NSF wasapproved but could not be funded."Twenty years from now," says Dr. Alex-ander Gottschalk, director of Argonne CancerResearch Hospital and professor of radiology,"thousands of people will hâve died becauseof today's cutbacks in support for cancer research."Urban JournalismFellowship GrantThe John and Mary R. Markle Foundationhâve announced a grant of $330,000 to theUniversity of Chicago for the Urban Journalism Fellowship program administered by theUniversity's Center for Policy Study. The grant34will be used during the next three years in support of an annual six-month study programfor journalists from the print and broadcastmédia who specialize in the coverage of urbanproblems."Today, with national attention frequentlyfocused on the cities, the demand on journaliststo report on the causes and conséquences ofurban crises is greater than ever," Lloyd N.Morrisett, président of the Markle Foundation,said. "The Urban Journalism Fellowship program off ers an unusual opportunity to studythèse problems," Morrisett said. "The University of Chicago's académie stréngth in urbanaffairs, its location in a major city and its ability .to draw on the resources of the Chicago community are ail important aspects of the program." ( See "The New Newsmen." )Jennie TourelThe University of Chicago Extension willprésent "Four Evenings with Jennie Tourel"November 8, 10, 15, 17 in Mandel Hall. MissTourel will talk informally about the songsshe will be singing, sharing the érudition thatis an aspect of the astonishing range of her art.Particularly identified with her début roteas Carmen which she has sung well over 300times, Miss Tourel has also had a long anddistinguished career as a recitalist. Since 1963Miss Tourel has been a member of the facultyof the Julliard School in New York City.Tickets for alumni will be available at adiscount. Call The Center for Continuing Education, MI 3-0800, ext. 3139.New Life CenterNathan Cummings, the prominent industrial-ist, has contributed 2.7 million dollars to assistin making possible construction of an eleven-story building for teaching and research in thebiological sciences at the University of Chicago.The Center, which will be constructed onthe north side of 58m Street between Drexeland Ellis Avenues, will provide thirty-sixlaboratory units and complète supportingfacilities for the Departments of Biochemistry, Biophysics, and Microbiology. The cost will beapproximately twelve million dollars. The re-maining funds will corne from a combinationof other sources, including a Ford Foundationfacilities grant and an anticipated grant fromthe fédéral government.Nathan Cummings is the founder, formerchairman of the board, and now a directorThe Cummings Life Science Centerand chairman of the executive committee ofthe Consolidated Foods Corporation. He is aninternationally known philanthropist andpatron of the fine and performing arts.The three departments that will be housedin the new Center are already among the mostdistinguished areas of the University: the Department of Biochemistry, under the chair-manship of Professor Earl A. Evans, Jr. for thelast twenty-eight years, has published morethan 2,000 research papers on subjects includingcarbohydrate metabolism, lipid metabolism,steroid chemistry, virus research, photosyn-thesis, and chemotherapy; the Department ofBiophysics, under the chairmanship of RobertHaselkorn, has eight full-time faculty members, thirteen postdoctoral fellows, and thirty-three graduate students engaged in research inthe areas of molecular and cell biology, em- phasizing the concepts and methods of physicsand chemistry; and the Department of Microbiology, under the chairmanship of Bernard S.Strauss, which has ten full-time faculty members, thirteen research associâtes, four postdoctoral fellows and thirty-one graduate students, and is conducting research on animaland bacterial viruses (including viruses asso-ciated with cancer) , on microbial genetics andbiochemistry, and on pathogenic micro-organ-isms and animal agents of disease.Fall Académie Calendar ChangedThe University académie calendar for autumn,1970, has been officially changed to provide fora recess from Saturday, October 24, throughTuesday, November 3. During that recess students may, if they wish, return home to cam-paign in the national élection.Président Levi said in announcing thechange "I realize there are differing views asto the wisdom of the proposed change, andthat in def erring to the diverse Personal plansof some faculty and students, there is inevitablysome inconvenience for others. A calendar, atbest, always représenta a compromise on suchmatters consistent with the educational re-quirements of the institution."I hâve concluded that the recommendedUniversity calendar is feasible, and that it isconsistent with the académie objectives of theUniversity."Magazine Makes the "Top Ten"Scenic Canal Street, New Orléans, was thescène of the annual American Alumni Councilawards présentations this July, and The University of Chicago Magazine was there to pickup its share, or perhaps a bit better, of thehonors. It was cited for its appearance, itscovers, its photographs, and its coverage ofpublic affairs (the coveted and weightyNewsweek plaque) and finally was chosen asone of the ten best alumni magazines of theyear. The Magazine was so overwhelmed byail this that it retired, from time to time, to thevarious subcultures and supercultures of theFrench Quarter.35PeopleX Three years ago, LEON BOTSTEIN, twenty-three, was an undergraduate student in the .Collège of the University of Chicago. This f ailhe will take office as président of FranconiaCollège in New Hampshire. He is believed tobe the youngest collège président in the UnitedStates.While a student at the University of Chicago, Botstein majored in history, graduatingwith spécial honors. Interested in music, heplayed first violin in the University Orchestra,organized and conducted a chamber musicorchestra which has since become a regularUniversity organization, and served as chairman of the Festival of the Arts. He reads andspeaks four languages— French, German, Rus-sian, and Greek.After graduating from the University ofChicago he went to Harvard University, wherehe received an MA degree in history in 1968and is now working on his dissertation for thePhD degree. He has also been spécial assistantto the président of the New York City Boardof Education.Early this year, Botstein went to Franconiato visit a brother-in-law who is a student there.While there he had lunch with the chairmanof the Franconia Boàrd of Trustées who askedhim if he knew of anyone who might be interested in applying for the collège presidency,to succeed the resigning président. Later, Botstein was asked to submit his own résume,which he did. A f aculty-student presidentialsearch committee selected him, and that washow a twenty -three-year-old man became président of a collège.Forty-one years ago when Robert MaynardHutchins became chancellor of the Universityof Chicago, he was believed to be the youngestcollège président, but he was, comparativelyspeaking, an "old man"— thirty years old—today not even to be trusted.X JOSEPH CROPSEY, professor of politicalscience, is one of the winners of one of theLlewellyn John and Harriet Manchester Quan-trell Awards for Excellence in UndergraduateTeaching. Student évaluations play a majorrote in the sélection of the faculty récipientsfor this award. "The students must sensé that I enjoy teaching," Cropsey said. "It is often said that thereshould be respect between teachers and theirstudents in both directions. It is hard not torespect your students when you walk into theclassroom, look out, and realize that seatedthere are the people who will soon be one'sprof essional colleagues, and after that one'sheirs."But, he feels, today's students are too honestand sensible to respond to flattery. "I believethat their instinct is to recoil from people ofmy âge who, for reasons not always honorable,tell them they are the most moral and mostintelligent génération of ail A teacher'sduty, it seems to me, is to make the best of hisown abilities while recognizing his limitations.It is important that he encourage his studentsto do the same, without minimizing the limitations."Today's young would hâve been sparedmuch distress— and so would their elders— ifmy génération had not made a cuit of pre-cocity, blinding students to their inévitable ornatural immaturities and confusing promisewith ripeness."The other winners of this year's $1,000Quantrell Awards are EASLEY BLACKWOOD,professor of music; STUART A. RICE, the LouisBlock Professor of Chemistry; and LORNA P,^ STRAUS, assistant professor in the departmentsof anatomy and biology.X Governor Richard Ogilvie has namedDAVID P. CURRIE, AB'57 and professor of lawat the University of Chicago, co-ordinator ofenvironmental quality for the state of Illinois.Currie's duties in the $35,000 post are to provide better enforcement of anti -pollution lawsand to draft législation on pollution to be sentto the General Assembly.35 RICHARD G. SWAN, prof essor of mathe-matics at the University of Chicago, has received the Frank Nelson Cote Prize in Algebra,which is presented only every five years by theAmerican Mathematical Society. Swan receivedthe award for his paper, "Groups of Cohomo-logical Dimension One," which appeared inthe Journal of Algebra in 1969. The prizes were presented at a meeting of the AmericanMathematical Society in San Antonio, Texas.Swan spoke on the subject of this paper at themeeting.35 ANTHONY L. TURKEVICH, designer of thedevice which gave the world its first chemicalanalysis of the moon, has been appointed theJames Franck Distinguished Service Professorof Chemistry and in the Enrico Fermi Instituteat the University of Chicago.A principal investigator of Apollo n lunarsamples, Turkevich received last year theAtoms for Peace prize for providing "the suc-cessful nuclear techniques to analyze the surface of the moon." The "litde gold box," analpha scattering instrument, that he designed,was placed aboard Surveyor 5, the capsule thatlanded on the moon September 10, 1967, andbegan sending back information, indicatingthat the moon's surface was like early basait.Though his findings were greeted initiallywith some skepticism, analysis of lunar samples since brought to earth hâve borne out theaccuracy of his instrument.Turkevich was born in New York City, theson of a bishop in the Russian OrthodoxChurch who later became the Church's leaderin the United States and Canada.He received AB and PhD degrees from Dart-mouth and Princeton and has taught at theUniversity of Chicago since 1946.X WALTER L. WALKER, associate professorin the School of Social Service Administrationand vice-président for planning at the University of Chicago, has been appointed résidentmaster in the Burton-Judson Courts dormitoryat the University, becoming the third facultymember named as a résident master in récentmonths as part of the University's program toencourage the active participation of facultymembers in the house System of the Collège.Walker, thirty-four, a University vice-président since June, 1969, is a member of the National Association of Social Workers, American Academy of Political and Social Sciences,the Council on Social Work Education, theboard of the Woodlawn Expérimental SchoolsProject, the Hyde Park Young Men's Christian36Association, Americans for Démocratie Action,the National Association for the Advance-ment of Coiored People, the National UrbanLeague, and the Planned Par enthood Association of Metropolitan Washington.3$ ANNETTE FERN, assistant référence H-brarian and bibilographer for the performingarts at the University, has been appointed di-r ector of University Théâtre, replacing JAMESO'REîLLY, who has directed the théâtre since1962.Miss Fern has been active with UniversityThéâtre since 1964. She has appeared with theRenaissance Players and the Collegium Musi-cum. She participated in last winter's Victoria sWorld séries and had a lead in Court Thea-tre's summer production of Under Milkwood.In addition to her duties as director, MissFern will be studying for a PhD degree in theCommittee on the History of Culture.38 JOSEPH MITSUO KITAGAWA, professor ofhistory of religions and internationaily knownfor his scholarship in the religions of the East,has been named dean of the Divinity Schoolof the University of Chicago.A native of Osaka, Japan, Kitagawa hasbeen a member of the Divinity School's facultysince 195 1, and is one of its most prominentand popular faculty members.Also a member of the faculty in the Department of Far Eastern Languages and Civilisations, he is the author of numerous booksand articles, including Modem Trends inWorld Religions ( 1959) ; Religions of theEast ( i960) ; Religion in Japanese History( 1966) ; and History of Religions: Essays onthe Problems of Understanding ( 1967 ) .Kitagawa is married and the father of adaughter. His wife, the former Evelyn MaeRose, is professor of sociology at the University of Chicago and associate director of itsPopulation Research Center.38 KEVIN Av. RYAN, associate professor oféducation in the University of Chicago's Graduate School of Education and director of theschool's Training of Teacher Trainers (TTT)program, is one of ten outstanding men in éducation and related fields who hâve beenawarded Alfred North Whitehead Fellowshipsfor Advanced Study in Education at HarvardUniversity for the 1970-71 académie year:X A fourth year médical student at the University of Chicago, MICHAEL E. SHERLOCK,received the first prize in the Vietnam categoryof the 1969 Newsweek-Bolex DocumentaryFilm Contest.The siient six-minute film consists of thou-sands of black and white and color still photo-graphs illustrating the sufïering of both armyand civilian personnel in Vietnam, alternatingwith headlines of United States governmentpolicy statements contradicting the visuals.'The final shape of the film was greatly in-fluenced by my reaction to the incident at MyLai," Sherlock said.38 ALLISON DAVIS, professor of éducation atthe University of Chicago and a faculty member since 1942, has been named the first JohnDewey Distinguished Service Professor at theUniversity. ( See "Age of Anger and Fear,"page 17. )§8 CHARLES W. WEGENER, a professor in thehumanities, has been appointed master of theNew Collegiate Division and associate deanof the Collège. He succeeds JAMES M. RED-FIELD who was appointed master in August,1965. Redfield, associate professor and chairman of the Committee on Social Thought, hasbeen awarded a grant from the National En-dowment for the Humanities and is spendingthe year in Florence, Italy.Wegener, a native of Oak Park, Illinois,received an AB degree in 1942 and a PhD degree in 1950, both from the University of Chicago. Following service in World War II, hewas an assistant in philosophy and a researchassistant in philosophy at the University. Hejoined the University faculty in 1950 as an in-structor in humanities and was appointed aprofessor in 1968.In 1955 he was awarded the University'sQuantrell Award for Excellence in Undergraduate Teaching.In 1961 he was named associate editor of Ethics, an international journal of social, political, and légal philosophy, published by theUniversity of Chicago Press. He became co-editor in 1968.At the University he is a member of theCommittee on the Analysis of Ideas and theStudy of Methods in the Division of theHumanities, an elected member of the Councilof the University Senate, an appointed member of the Collège Council, a justice of theStudent-Faculty- Administration Court, andchairman of the Collège Curriculum Committee.He recently was chairman of a spécial Sub-committee of the Committee of the Council,appointed after last years sit-in to review andmake recommendations regarding Universitydisciplinary procédures.When asked why he accepted the job, Professor Wegener said "I think this is a verypropitious moment in the history of the University and the Collège to do some of thethings we Ve always tried to do. . . . The ideabehind NCD is that there ought to be at leastone place in the University which doesn'tdépend upon what's going on upstairs in thegraduate schools. . . . Fundamentaiiy, I am ratheran oid-f ashioned type of collège teacher ... Ihâve never attempted to make a career by pub-lishing; and my career is some quiet and un-spectacular testimony to the fact that onexanstill get away with this sort of thing at a majoruniversity!"38 Reappointments: MORRIS JANOWITZ,professor of sociology, reappointed chairmanof the Department of Sociology;CHARLES D. o'CONNELL reappointed deanof students for a three-year term;CHARLES ROBERT O'DELL, professor ofastronomy, reappointed chairman of the Department of Astronomy and Astrophysics anddirector of the University's Yerkes Observa-tory in Williams Bay, Wisconsin;THE REVEREND E. SPENCER PARSONS reappointed dean of Rockefeller MémorialChapel for a five-year term.37zJflumni V^ewsClass NotesT ry JESSE BEER, SB' 12, was honored duringthe spring at a testimonial dinner givenfor him by the alumni group of Ohio Northern University, where he once headed the phys-ics and chemistry departments. Still calledupon occasionally as a substitute teacher, héand Mrs. Béer, who recently celebrated theirfifty-fourth wedding anniversary, 'grow flow-ers and enjoy life" in Mansfield, Ohio.RALPH W. CHANEY, SB'12, PhD'17, emeritusprofessor of paleontology at the University ofCalifornia, Berkeley, has donated his ehtirecollection of pêrsonal and professional papers,including about 12,000 letters as well as nu-merous manuscripts of books and articles inthe fields of paleontology and conservation, tothe University of Oregon library. A specialistin paleobotany, Dr. Chaney's monographs onthe fossil flora of the western United States areconsidered the basic works in the field.IN MEMORIAM: Gertrude L. Crocker, SB'12;Bjarne H. Lunde, SB' 12; Paul MacClintock,SB' 12, PhD'20.T A BENJAMIN V. COHEN, PhB 14, JD'i5,\ who held numerous offices underFranklin Delano Roosevelt and Harry S.Truman, has been awarded an honorary doctorof laws degree by Bail State University, Mun-cie, Ind. Credited with providing much of thelégal and économie advice which led to important New Deal législation, Mr. Cohen became known as one of the most influential andenduring members of the Roosevelt "braintrust" in Washington.IN MEMORIAM: Dorothy Witt Dischinger,x'14; Margaret Lillian Hawkens, SB' 14; FriedaMiller Van Cleef, X'14.y r\ RAYMOND C. MOORE, PhD' 16, EmeritusSummerfield Distinguished Professor ofGeology at the University of Kansas, has beenawarded a citation for distinguished service,the highest honor bestowed upon an individ-ual by the University of Kansas and its alumniassociation. Listed in Who}s Who in Americaas the recognized dean of international paleontology, Dr. Moore received the prized Thompson medal from the National Academy ofSciences earlier this year. IN MEMORIAM: John W. Fischer, JD'16;Laura C Walter, SB' 16.T V SAMUEL CHUTKOW, PhB' 18, JD'20, hasbeen granted honorary life membershipin the Denver Bar Association in récognitionof fif ty years of légal practice.LEE SUTHERLIN, SM'18, and his wife recently celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary at a family luncheon in Florham Park,N. J. Mr. Sutherlin, a retired electrical engi-neer, résides in Caldwell, N. J.IN MEMORIAM: Cari T. Brelos, PhB'18;Abba Lipman, PhB' 18; Cari Mauelshagen,AM'18; Frederick E. Steinhauser, AB'18, AM'23;Marian Wilson Toigo, PhB' 18.OQJH. LLOYD, MD'20, was recently honored at a réception given by the médicalstaff of St. Joseph Hospital, Mitchell, S. D.,for fifty years of service in the médical profession. Dr. Lloyd is a fellow in the AmericanCollège of Surgeons.IN MEMORIAM: Roland Barker, PhB'20;William C. F. Beilfuss, SB'20; Stella M. Johnson, SB' 20; the Révérend Hilary S. Jurica,SM'20, PhD'22; Earl C. Kelley, SB'20; ClaraEllen Newlee, PhB'20; Harriet E. Peet, PhB'20;Gabrielle Robertson AM'20; Arthur H. Stein-haus, SB'20, SM'25, PhD'28,f> Y RUBY K. WORNER, SB'21, SM'22, PhD'25,retired head of the textile testing investigations, Southern Utilization Researchand Development Division, U. S. Departmentof Agriculture, accepted a two-month summerassignment with the International ExecutiveService Corps to serve as a volunteer executivewith the Philippine Textile Research Institutelocated in Mahila.IN MEMORIAM: Gorden N. Best, MD'21;Sadie Lindenbaum Goldman, SB'21; Vincent J.Heffernan, PhB'21, JD'22; Lou Eva Longan,PhB'21; J. Newton Rayzor, JD'21; HarrietScofield, X'21.r\ *2 RICHARD H. BAUER, PhB'23, AM'28,S) PhD' 35, retired professor of history atthe University of Maryland per June, 1970, hasbeen granted emeritus status. A specialist in European history, Dr. Bauer will continue toserve as book review editor of The Historian,the historical journal of Phi Alpha Thêta, thenational honorary history society.HENRY STEELE COMMAGER, PfiB'23, AM'24,PhD'28, professor of history and Americanstudies at Amherst Collège and noted American historian and author, delivered the commencement address this year at Kutztown StateCollège in Pa.IN MEMORIAM: John P. Ballantine, PhD'23;John Henry Clouse, X'23; Ralph E. Huston,SB'23, PhD'32; Hilger P. Jenkins, SB'23, MD'27;G. D. Shallenberger, PhD'23.r\ A ALFREDA BARNETT DUSTER, PhB'24,1" temporary chairwoman of the Wood-lawn Model Cities Council, has received the"Bootstrap Award" of the Opportunity Centersof Chicago for her outstanding contributionsto the Woodlawn community, located on Chicago' s South Side.IN MEMORIAM: John Potts Barnes, PhB' 24,JD'24; Randolph F. Olmsted, MD'24; Glenn E.Shackelford, PhB' 24; Ernest L. Stover, PhD' 24;Catherine Sturtevant, AM'24, PhD'31; RuthBowles Taylor, PhB'24, AM'41; David L.Wickens, AM'24.r\ F* THEODORE FRUEHLING, PhB'25, AM'34,kJ was recently presented with a hi-fi console at a testimonial dinner given in his honorby the Hammond ( Ind. ) High School AdultBooster Club. Mr. Fruehling retired in Junefrom a thirty-five year association with Hammond High School.EDWARD SHAKESPEAR LEWIS, PhB'25,director and chairman of the department ofcoopérative c lucation, Manhattan CommunityCollège, City University of New York, wasrecently elected vice président of the NationalCoopérative Education Association.IN MEMORIAM: Vernon R. Alberstett,AM'25.ry A CHARLES K. A. WANG, AM'26, PhD'31,has been promoted to the rank of professor of psychology at California State Collège, Los Angeles. Formerly a teacher at theCatholic University of Peking, National38Central University in Nanking, and TaiwanUniversity in Formosa, Dr. Wang was oncethe director of the division of research, Minis-try of Social Affairs, for the Chinese Nation-alist government.IN MEMORIAM: James T. Carlyon, PhD'26;Théodore Thomas Lafferty, AM26, PhD'28.r\ V JESSICA PICKETT, PhB'28, a memberof the Christian Science lectureshipboard in Chicago, is currently on a lecture tourthrough the United States and parts of Canada.Miss Pickett entered the Christian Sciencepublic healing ministry in 1957.HERBERT L. STAHNKE, SB'28, prof essor ofzoology, head of the division of life sciences,and director of the poisonous animal researchlaboratory, Arizona State University, is con-ducting a comparative analysis of venoms forthe U. S. Army and is studying the scorpionsof India and Pakistan.IN MEMORIAM: Cari Smith, SB'28.r) s\ ELMER GEORGE HOMRIGHAUSEN,y X'29, a faculty member of PrincetonTheological Seminary since 1938, has an-nounced his retirement. Dean of the Seminaryfrom 1955 through 1965, Dr. Homrighausenhas lectured and preached at universities andchurches from Alaska to South Africa andfrom Buenos Aires to Doshisha.GRACE ESTHER WERTENBERGER, SB'29,SM'32, PhD'39, has retired after twenty years onthe faculty of the Indiana University depart-ment of anatomy and physiology. She is oneof the comparatively few women listed inAmerican Men of Science.IN MEMORIAM: Ethel Brignall Bastable,PhB'29; Garfield V. Cox, PhD' 29; Léon M.Pultz, PhD'29; Carleton D. Speed, Jr., x'29;Harold C. Taylor, PhB'29.^ T C.C. LI, SM'31, professor and chairman,3 department of biostatistics, GraduateSchool of Public Health, University of Pitts-burgh, was named the 1970 Pittsburgh Statisti-cian of the Year by the Pittsburgh chapter ofthe American Statistical Association in récognition of his contribution to statistical method-ology in the study of human genetics. JOHN T. SCOPES, X'31, défendant in thefamous 1925 "Monkey Trial," spoke recently toColumbus, Ohio high school science studentson "The Dangers of Pollution." Commentingon the famous trial in which he was convictedof teaching évolution in violation of Tennesseestate law, Mr. Scopes wasn't sure that he wasreally teaching évolution but "was willing tosay I had . . rto get the constitutionality of thelaw tested." Scopes, who went on to becomean oilfiëld geologist after the trial, remembersBryan's speeches as wonderfully written. Afterone of his political speeches, somebody washeard to say "That was a wonderful speech.What the hell did he say?"IN MEMORIAM: Eugène Tanner, AM31,PhD'34.^ r\ SEYMOUR GORCHOFF, AB'36, JD'38, wasJ honored upon the occasion of his récentretirement as director of the Kentucky-Ohiorégion of the Anti-Defamation League ofB'nai B'rith for his efforts in promoting socialjustice. Mr. Gorchoif joined the staff of ADLnational headquarters in Chicago as directorof the légal department of 1943.^2 *7 SOLOMON KOBRIN, AB'37, AM'39, asso-J / ciate professor of sociology at the University of Southern California, and VERN L.BENGSTON, AM'66, PhD'67, associate professorof sociology affiliated with the USC gerontol-ogy center, hâve begiin an extensive study thatwill investigate the attitudes, goals, and valuesof three générations of the same families. Un-like the studies based merely on responses ofcollège students and their parents, "our studysample," they say, "is a broad one, comprisedlargely of union members and other workingclass persons, the so-called 'Silent Majority'."IN MEMORIAM: Joseph E. Baldwin, AM'37;John S. Gordon, Jr., SB' 37; Louis G. Henyey,PhD'37; Camillo B. Locasto, MD'37; CharlotteK. Rust, PhB'37; Elizabeth Poole Swain, AB'37.^2 V KATHARINE MEYER GRAHAM, AB'38,J owner of The Washington Post andNewsweek magazine and a trustée of theUniversity of Chicago, has been selected asone of ten outstanding women in business in a poil conducted as part of the second annualConférence on Women and Money, held bythe Anchor Group mutual fund.GEORGE C. MC ELROY, AB'38, AM'39, de-livered a paper on "Meilhac, Halevy, and Gilbert: Comic Converses" at the InternationalConférence on Gilbert & Sullivan, sponsoredby the International Théâtre Studies Center,University of Kansas, during May.IN MEMORIAM: Ebba Cover Low, SB'38;Rodney Jones McKenzie, MD'38.^> r\ AUGUST BAETKE, AM'39, tetired pro-J y f essor and chairman of the departmentof sociology at Wartburg Collège in Iowa,received an honorary doctor of laws degreefrom Luther Collège, Cedar Rapids, Iowa, atrécent commencement exercises.FRANK HORWICH, AB'39, vice président ofGeneral Felt Industries, was the f eaturedspeaker at the fifty-seventh annual dinner ofthe Philadelphia Carpet and Upholstery Club.Mr. Horwich played a major rote in the growthof his firm from supplier of felted paddingproducts to producer of varied floor coveringproducts.SARAH E. STEWART, PhD' 39, internationallyknown for her work on the question of a viruscause of cancer, has been appointed professorof pathology at Georgetown University, Washington, D. C. Dr. Stewart was the first womanto receive an MD degree from that institution.That was in 1949.IN MEMORIAM: James Loeb, AB'39; CarrollFranklin Shukers, MD'39.A T FRED J. JACKSON, AM'41, minister of¦* the United Church of Canada, IroquoisFalls, Ontario, has won second prize in aquestionnaire-contest sponsored by the magazine Soviet Union Today. Révérend Jacksonwon second prize in 1966— a tour of Moscow,Leningrad, and Kiev.ALBERT SOMIT, AB'41, PhD'47, professor ofpolitical science at the State University of NewYork at Bufïalo, has been appointed executivevice président there.IN MEMORIAM: Jane Hirschfeld Goldberg,AB'41; Milton A. Goldberg, AM'41; Gordon L.Markwart, AB'41; John C. Willard, SB'41.39A rs HARRY FINESTONE, AM'42, PhD'53,t" professor and chairman of the Englishdepartment at San Fernando Valley ( Calif . )State Collège, has been named acting dean ofacadémie administration at the school.ALBERT C. STEWART, SB'42, SM48, marketdevelopment manager for the chemical andplastics division of Union Carbide in NewYork City, has been elected to the board ofdirectors of the New York Philharmonie. Mr.Stewart is a director and former chairman ofthe New York Urban League.ROBERT H. STROTZ, AB'42, PhD'51, memberof the Northwestern University faculty since1947 and dean of the Collège of Arts andSciences since 1966, has been unanimouslyelected the school's thirteenth président by theboard of trustées.A A LOIS WIFFIN COLLINGS, BLS'46, chair-i" man of the department of library science at Nebraska Wesleyan University, hasbeen appointed head librarian of the college'snew Cochrane- Woods Library. Her husband,WAYNE COLLINGS, BLS'47, is head librarian atC. Y. Thompson Library on the University ofNebraska East Campus.PAUL E. WAGGONER, SB'46, has been appointed head of the department of ecology andclimatology at the Connecticut AgriculturalExperiment Station in New Haven. Dr. Wag-goner is a member of the Connecticut gov-ernnor's Committee on Environmental Policy.A f-l EDWIN DIAMOND, PhB'47, AM49, aI / former editor of Newsweek, is now acommentator on WTOP-TV and WTOP-Radio in Washington.SHERWOOD P. MILLER, SM'47, MD'49, director of hematology at Meadowbrook Hospital in East Meadow, N. Y., has been promotedto associate professor of medicine at the StateUniversity of New York, Downstate MédicalCenter.ARTHUR SHAPIRO, AB'47, AM'53, PhD'65,has resigned as assistant superintendent ofschools in DeKalb, 111., to become superintendent of schools in Long Beach ( on LongIsland ) , N. Y. A former social studies andhumanities instructor at the UC Laboratory Schools, Dr. Shapiro stated as his goal "indi-vidualized instruction" in which children'seducational needs are individually diagnosedand then met as erïectively as possible.SARA UNGER SKOLNIK, AB'47, AM'50, recently exhibited her woodeuts and sculpture atthe Schenectady (N. Y.) Muséum. Mrs. Skol-nik teaches print-making at the muséum.IN MEMORIAM: William L. Ballard,MBA'47.A V RUTH ROGAN BENERITO, PhD'48, re-\ search chemist at the U. S. Departmentof Agricultures Southern Utilization Research and Development Division in NewOrléans, has been named récipient of yet another award. This time she has been chosen toreceive the department's highest honor, theDistinguished Service Award, for her contributions to research in the field of chemistry. Aprominent member of numerous scientificsocieties, Dr. Benerito is a lecturer in physicalchemistry at Tulane Médical School and is onthe staff of Tulane University.FRANCES SHENFIELD GROSS, AM'48, director of the Day Hospital at Butler Hospital inProvidence, has been elected président of theRhode Island Psychological Association. Thefirst woman président in the group's history,Dr. Gross is a member of the American Psychological Association and a fellow of thePennsylvania Psychological Association.H. WILLIAM HEY, PfiB'48, AM'56, associatedirector of research for the Illinois LégislativeCouncil in Springfield, which serves as theofficiai governmental research agency for theIllinois General Assembly, is président of theCentral Illinois chapter of the American Society for Public Administration for the 1970-71year.KARL P. ZERFOSS, JR., PflB'48, AM'50, hasbeen appointed director of the investmentmanagement division, Supervised InvestorsServices, Chicago.A r\ EMMON WERNER BACH, AB'49, AM'54,A / PhD'59, professor of linguistics at theUniversity of Texas, spent the summer withhis new bride doing research on AmericanIndian languages in British Columbia under the sponsorship of the U. S. government.THEODORE W. DE LOOZE, AB'49, JD'49,has been named chief counsel for the Department of Revenue, state of Oregon.VICTORIA GFiBKE GUENTHER, SM'49, hasleft her job as a biology and chemistry teacherat Crestwood High School, Mantua, Ohio, toaccept an assistant professorship of nursing atKent State University.C* C\ FRANK B- GOLTON, PhD'50, the chemi-O cal inventor of Enovid, the first oralcontraceptive, has been named a research ad-viser at G. D. Searle and Co., Skokie, 111.THOMAS F. GALLAGHER, AB'50, MD'62, hasleft Tufts University New England MédicalCenter to assume an assistant professorship ofinternai medicine at the University of Nebraska Médical Center, Omaha, Nebr.FREDA GOULD REBELSKY, AB'50, AM'54,AB'55, a department of psychology facultymember. at Boston University, informs us oîthe publication of her book Child Behaviorand Development: A Reader by Alfred A.Knopf , Inc.ST JOY GRODZINS CARLIN, AB'51 a member of the dramatic arts faculty at theUniversity of California at Berkeley, has a partin the movie The Strawberry Statement. Avétéran of "The Committee" and Chicago's"Second City," she appeared earlier this yearas Miss Prism in the American ConservatoryTheatre's production of The Importance ofBeing Earnest.ROBERT SPENCER LONG, AB'51, SM'56,PhD'66, dean of Roger Williams Collège inRhode Island, has been selected to become thetenth président of Shimer Collège, MountCarroll, 111.£ rs CHARLES EDWIN BISHOP, PfiD'52, is*3 leaving his position as a vice présidentof the University of North Carolina to assumethe first chancellorship of the University ofMaryland's Collège Park campus. Dr. Bishopserved in the latter part of the Johnson administration as executive director of the president'sNational Advisory Committee on RuralPoverty.40£ A CARL SAGAN, AB'54, SB'55, SM'56,«3 i PhD'60, director of Cornell University'sPlanetary Studies Laboratory, has been pro-moted to professor of astronomy. Co-chairmanof the Committee on Space Research, international working group on the moon and planets,Professor Sagan is a fréquent consultant toNASA and the National Academy of Sciences,has briefed the Apollo astronauts, and is activein the 1971 Mariner Mars Orbiter and the 1975Viking Mars Lander programs. He is authorof a recently published book, Planetary Exploration.CLYDE CURRY SMITH, DB'54, AM'6l, PhD'68,associate professor of ancient history at Wis-consin State University ( River Falls ) , has beeninvited to lecture in divinity at Edge Hill Collège of Education, Ormskirk, Lancashire, En-gland, during 1970-71 as part of a reciprocalprogram between the two institutions. He willbe accompanied abroad by his wife, ELLEN,X'55, and their two children.£ f\ HARRY T. ALLAN, JD'56, has becomeC5 dean of the Syracuse University Collègeof Business Administration. Winner of theOutstanding Teacher Award of the School ofBusiness and Technology at the University ofOregon in 1965, Dr. Allan has been active inthe Civil Liberties Union and the AmericanAssociation of University Professors.IN MEMORIAM: Cari Kaplan, MD'56; Harvey Shapiro, JD'56.£ M JAMES L. CARPENTER, AM57, has been+J / appointed director of research and évaluation for the Chicago Board of Education.He had previously served as director of theBoard's Model Cities évaluation program.DAVID J. DANELSKI, AM'57, PhD'6l, has leftYale to assume a professorship of public lawand judicial behavior at Cornell University,Ithaca, N. Y. He was recently named 1970winner of the E. Harris Harbison Prize forGif ted Teaching presented by the DanforthFoundation.ALFRED ILLINGWORTH, PhD'57, professorof New Testament at thé School of Religion,Columbia, Mo., has been selected by the edi-torial staff of the 1970 Savitar, student year- book of the University of Missouri, as "an outstanding educator in the School of Religion."His name will appear in the 1970 édition ofOutstanding Educators of America.LUBERT STRYER, SB'57, professor of molec-ular biophysics at Yale, is récipient of theAmerican Chemical Society Award in Biologi-cal Chemistry. Dr. Stryer has been describedby Nobel Prize-winning geneticist ArthurKornberg as "one of the brightest, most accom-plished young biochemists in the country today."r* V HORACE F. clay, PhD'58, former pro-,3 gram director of économie, natural andcultural resources development, East- WestCenter, Honolulu, has been promoted to theposition of associate dean of spécial programs,Leeward Community Collège, University ofHawaii, Honolulu.WILLIAM HARMON, AB'58, AM'68, has recently added thèse feathers to his cap: a PhDdegree, conferred upon him by the Universityof Cincinnati in June; a promotion to lieuten-ant-commander in the Naval Reserve; a facultyappointaient at the University of North Caro-lina in Chapel Hill; and a September publication date set by Wesleyan University Press forhis book of poetry, Treasury Holiday. He andhis wife, LYNN CHADWELL, AB'58, hâve a four-year-old daughter.ROBERT H. PUCKETT, AM'58, PhD'6l, asso-ciate professor of political science at IndianaState University, attended a Department ofState Scholar-Diplomat Seminar in EuropeanAffairs in June.CECILE BLEDSOE SMITH, AM'58, has beenappointed assistant professor of nursing atKennedy-King Collège ( f ormerly WilsonJunior Collège) , one of the City Collèges ofChicago.C O ELISE MICHAEL, AM'59, has been ap-O / pointed associate professor of nursingat the University of Rhode Island. On a U. S,Public Health Service nurse-scientist fellowship since 1964, Miss Michael is presently adoctoral candidate at Case Western ReserveUniversity.JOHN G. STEWART, AM'59, PhD'68, législa tive assistant to Hubert H. Humphrey whenhe was vice président, has been appointed director of the office of communications underthe récent reorganization of the DémocratieNational Committee.A T VIRGIL E. BLANKE, PhD'61, member ofthe Collège of Education faculty atOhio State University, has been appointed assistant dean of the collège. Professor Blankewas an instructor at UC from 1960-61.DONALD L. JANIS, JD'61, has joined theWilliam J. Burns Détective Agency, Inc., ofBriarcliff, N. Y, as gênerai counsel.ROBERT H. KELLER, JR., DB'6l, AM'62,PhD'67, instructor at Fairhaven Collège ofWestern Washington State Collège, is origi-nator of "Initiative Measure 256," a pétitionwhich would submit to voters of the state ofWashington in November an act banning thesale or distribution of beverages in nonrefund-able réceptacles. The pétition, which gained arecord number of signatures, is expected topass the élections without any trouble.A r\ GARY J. GREENBERG, AB'62, AM'63,who until October, 1969, was the seniortrial attorney in the appeals unit of the civilrights division, U. S. Department of Justice[see "Revolt at Justice" in our Mardi/ Aprilissue], is now with the New York City lawfirm of Stroock & Stroock & Lavan. He continues to write and speak in the field of civilrights, as well as doing civil rights litigationfor the NAACP légal défense and éducationfund. Mr. Greenberg résides now at 4901Henry Hudson Parkway, Riverdale, Bronx,New York.A *S ROB.ERT E. HINSHAW, AM'63, PhD'66,J associate professor of anthropology atthe University of Kansas, has been chosen tobecome président of Wilmington (Ohio) Collège, as of January, 1971.ALEXANDRA NAVROTSKY, SB'63, SM'64,PhD'67, new assistant professor of chemistry atArizona State University and, at the âge oftwenty-six, already known internationallythrough her study and publications in the fieldof solid states chemistry, has been awarded41$4,000 by the Research Corporation, NewYork, for a study of the thermodynamics ofcertain oxide Systems containing extensiveterminal solid solutions.RICHARD R. WEST, MBA'63, PhD'64, associatedean for planning and development at theGraduate School of Business and Public Administration, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y,has been promoted to professor of financethere. During 1967-68 Dr. West worked on theformation of the National Urban Coalition andon Président Johnson's Task Force on Housing.A A NANCY LYNN CRAVEN, AM'64, PhD'69,i assistant professor of history at Nebraska Wesleyan University, has won a $500president's award for incentive and creativityin the classroom. A specialist in European history, Dr. Craven recently studied on a Ful-bright in West Germany.RICHARD SENNETT, AB'64, director of theUrban Family Study in Boston and assistantprofessor of sociology at Brandeis University,is author of Families against the City: MiddleClass Homes of Industrial Chicago, 1872-1890,a sociological study of the interaction betweencity life, family structure, and work expérienceduring the décades following the Civil War.Published in June by Harvard UniversityPress, the study focuses on Union Park, a section of Chicago that had been wealthy and élégant in its early years but gradually became asolidly middle class neighborhood.A A ROBERT M. BERGER, JD'66, who is as-v sociated with the law firm of Mayer,Brown & Platt in Chicago, has been elected tothe board of managers of the Chicago BarAssociation. A founding member of the Chicago Council of Lawyers, a newly organizedreform-oriented bar association, Mr. Berger iscurrently serving on its board of governors. Heand his wife, Joan, hâve two children, Aliza(three) and Benjamin (two).DEBORAH C. BLOCK, MD'66, has opened anoffice for the practice of pediatrics in Madison,N. J. Dr. Block completed internship and resi-dency in pediatrics at the Bufïalo (N. Y. )Children's Hospital. PHILIP GEORGE FURIA, AM'66, has receivedhis master of fine arts degree in English fromthe University of Iowa. Mr. Furia studied atthe acclaimed Iowa Writers' Workshop.MARY LEE LEAHY, JD'66, who has a lawpractice with her husband in Chicago and is amember of Independent Voters of Illinois, waselected a delegate to the Constitutional Convention in Springfield that hopes to reformthe outdated constitution of Illinois.A fj Sculpture by VITTORE BOCCHETTA,/ PhD'67, a member of the romance litera-ture faculty at Loyola University, Chicago,was recently on display at the Upper AvenueNational Bank in Chicago, including severalpièces which were executed in a bronzingmethod developed especially by Mr. Bocchetta.A true Renaissance man, he won an awardfrom the Italian government for his own production of The Passion of Christ and, morerecently, he directed The Court at Elsinore byRichard Cavalier for Chicago's Hull HousePlaywright's Theater. Then there was the con-versational Italian course for national educa-tional télévision, which he instructed, not tomention the Italian-English World- Wide Dic-tionary, which he authored J. ROGER COLLINS, MBA'67, has been namedassistant treasurer of Skelly Oil Company,Tulsa, Okla. Mr. Collins joined the firm in1967 as an economist.PETER J. HENRIOT, PhD'67, ordained aJesuit priest on June 20 in Seattle, Washington,is working for a master's degree in theology atthe Jesuit School of Theology in Berkeley,Calif ., an affiliate of the Berkeley GraduateTheological Union. Next year, as a visitingassociate of the Joint Center for Urban Studiesof MIT-Harvard, Father Henriot will do postdoctoral research in urban politics. Followingthat, in the fall of 1971, he plans to head backwest to assume a faculty position in the department of political science and the Instituteof Urban Affairs at Seattle University.CHARLOTTE DEGARMO HUGHES, AM'67, isdirector of the social service department at theSouth Texas Children's Home in Beeville,Texas, where she résides with her husband who is stationed at NAS Chase Field with the Navy.SHIRLEY JOHNSON, AM'67, known profes-sionally as Tasha Johnson, is the hostess on"Treetop House," a regular Saturday morningchildren's show on WGN-TV, Chicago.PHILIP M. LANKFORD, AB'67, AM'68, hasjoined the geography stafï at UCLA as an assistant professor.A V DAVID B. J. ADAMS, AM'68, has beennamed assistant professor of politicalscience at the University of Denver. A specialist in the study of Southeast Asia, he servedas a political science research associate at theInstitute of Asian Studies in Bangkok during1968-69.DONALD T. SCHER, mcl'68, having com-pleted studies at the University of Grenoble inFrance which he attended on a Ford Foundation fellowship as part of the foreign law program, announces the opening of a légal officein Los Angeles for the gênerai practice of law.He and his wife hâve just celebrated the birthôf their first child.f\Ç\ SUSAN L. ANDREWS, PhD'69, uses somey/ rather unique teaching devices in herintroductory psychology classes at the University of Wisconsin at Waukesha. With the useof relatively simple and inexpénsive devices,her students conduct experiments— "skin map-ping," for example— which give them a first-hand indication of the limits of the sensés inmaking judgments.AUDREY MARY BORTH, PhD'69, has beenappointed chairman of the éducation programat Barat Collège in Lake Forest, 111.DONALD R. JOHNSON, MBA'69, has beennamed manager of industrial engineering forthe Quaker Oats Company's corporate production department in Chicago.42cÇettersTO THE EDITOR: The University of ChicagoMagazine is one of the most welcome periodi-cals I receive. The Mardi /April issue is par-ticularly terrifie! More power to its editors.Will you please send me two copies of thisissue as I want to send them to two collègeprésidents for them to read, study, and digestthe peerless "Diagnoses of Student Protest" byDr. Schwab.Inasmuch as I received my masters in sociology in December, 1916, 1 will greatly ap-preciate your telling me from whom to orderthe book Chicago Sociology 1920- 1932, byRobert E. L. Faris [March /April Book Re-views]. No professor ever had a greater impact on me than the beloved Dr. Albion W.Small. In Ecclesiastes I happened upon thebest obituary for Dr. Small: "A man's wisdommaketh his face to shine."Pardon my poor penmanship, inasmuch asI am ninety-five per cent blind and fifty percent paralyzed. I can read only for about one-half an hour a day and write sporadically. Thisis not an alibi; I am grateful to be alive atseventy-five plus years old !JOSEPH N. SLETTEN, AM'l7Pasadena, CaliforniaTO THE EDITOR: There can be no quarrel withDr. Schwab's assertions that students are noteducated to be discerning critics of politicalpolemic, that they often respond to rhetoricwith a Pavlovian reflex, and that they are notproperly included in today's académie community. However, the real roots of the massivestudent protests of the late 1960's and the présent are to be found not in the universities, butin the world outside them.The massive aliénation of youth from theUnited States government did not take placeuntil our involvement in Vietnam reachedmajor proportions during the early months of1965. At first students were upset about thçwar's effect on domestic programs and the suf -f ering of the Vietnamese, but soon they wereto feel the chills of the draf t. The sélective service collège deferment test in the spring of1966 brought the war, and prospect of personal involvement in it, very close to home for collège men across the country.Although there are over six million collègestudents in this country, they hâve never beenpart of the American political power équation,as hâve been their counterparts in Asia, Europe,and Latin America. Major interests such as oilcompanies, steel firms, organized labor, vétérans' groups, and médical associations hâvehad significant influence on policy décisions ofour government; students, despite their num-bers, hâve not even had the vote, nevermindenjoyed such "clout."The inability of students to afîect war policyresulted in a cruel paradox: those most affectedby the conflict were those least able to do any-thing about it. This situation has given rise tofrustration, aliénation, radicalism, and finallyviolence.A true understanding of student protest inour day must begin with the récognition that itarose from a serious political controversy, andcannot be attributed to shorteomings of youthor poor éducation. The young people who par-ticipate in thèse protests are similar in âgeand maturity to those who work in factories,fly aircraf t, and even command régiments.Their motivations are adult, and their purposeis earnest. Moreover, since the universities theyattend are merely vicarious targets of their actions, reforms in the structure or curricula ofthèse institutions will hâve no more than marginal effect on such actions.GERALD S. GLAZER, SB'63Waukesha, WisconsinTO THE EDITOR: I am a graduate of the University of Chicago and was a student activistthere in the early Mues, before there was sucha word as "student activist." I must say that Ifind Professor Schwab's "Diagnoses of StudentProtest" rather unsatisfying.I and many others of my génération— the so-called silent génération— became student ac-tivists because we felt that the war ( then inKorea, now in Vietnam) was a threat to ourlives. I did not wish to go to collège at ail. Iwished to become a commercial artist, but in order to get a student deferment I went any-way I became a student activist ( a member ofCORE ) because I had spent part of my child-hood in the South, where I had been regularlybeaten up because I was the only "Yankee" inmy class, and because I rode in the back ofbusses— at first out of ignorance of local custom,and later out of spite. I thus had a personalgrudge against racism, and only the student.activists presented me with any way of expressing this grudge. Certainly the Universityadministration, that was reluctant to offendlocal landlords by insisting on open housingin the student housing files, did not provideme with anything I could identify with or feelproud of . Students today, particularly blackstudents, must feel the same way about it.And finally, I and many others of my génération became student activists because we didnot want to live like our parents. My father wasa part of the nuclear bomb project carried onby the University of Chicago in the SecondWorld War. He was told by his superiors thatthe bomb would never be used on humanbeings, let alone on unarmed civilians. Evennow he has not quite gotten over it. When hefound my son playing with toy soldiers theother day, he waited until the soldiers were un-guarded, then gathered them up and with hispen-knife eut away ail their guns. The kid wasvery upset, and ail his grandfather could do wastell about his part in the atomic project andend up "They told us it would be exploded offthe Japanese coast, to scare them."Don't you think that while giving diagnosesof student protest, you should at least includea dishonorable mention of thèse three:—Fear of war.— Hatred of racism.— Disbelief in the lies our government tellsus.RAY NELSON, AB'6oEl Cerrito, CaliforniaPROFESSOR SCHWAB REPLIES: I, too, agréethat we are in a stinking war. (Though I do notagrée that ail wars are equally bad. ) I, too,43grew up in the South (until âge fifteen) andran away from home because I could no longerstand what was going on there and at fifteenknew no better than to escape. I, too, feel thatour culture has become excessively institu-tionalized, complacent, corrupt, and too welloff.One of the corruptions, extremely seriousbut almost as undramatic as it is serious, is thecorruption of éducation. This corruption isvisible in the imposed docility of the publicschools and in the mass techniques of convey-ing dogma in most collèges. It is this corruption which my little book Collège Curriculumand Student Protest is about. It was an excerptfrom this book which was printed in The University of Chicago Magazine, and I think ifyou will glance at the excerpt again, you willfind that I was not by any means characterizingstudent protest or speculating about its causes.I was talking about the deficiencies of éducation as reflected most visibly in the statementsand choices of means by student protestors.The préface of the book ends as follows:"[This book] will not provide an acceptablepsycho-social explanation for the rise of ac-tivism. It will not provide a satisfyingly directresponse to the content of student protest."My prescriptions were not intended to abolishor quiet student protest, but to improve it.You will be glad to know, I think, that theUniversity under Ed Levi is long past smugmiddle-classism. TO THE EDITOR: I hâve something which Iwould like included in "Alumni News /ClassNotes" in the next possible issue of The University of Chicago Magazine:JACK CATLIN, AB'65, is tee'd °# DY ^he factthat this "Alumni News" bit is exclusively achronicle of external changes in status andposition, apparently presupposing that suchexternals are the only important things thathappen to people.JACK CATLIN, AB'65Ithaca, New YorkTHE EDITOR REPLIES: We dig your point ofview. The reason the Class Notes include onlyexternal changes in status and position resuitsfrom the fact that most people measure theirdevelopment in terms of what they do ratherthan in terms of what they are. How about thefollowing entry for y our self ?JACK CATLIN, AB'65, while walking throughthe park last week in Ithaca, achieved satori.JACK CATLIN, AB'65, during a récent ride onthe commuter bus suddenly reconciled infinitémercy with infinité justice. Picture CréditsThe University of Chicago Archives :cover, 20-29David Windsor: 6-7, 14-15Sander Wood Engraving: 35DanMorrill: 45Lynn Martin: art direction and design44'«{•V**rt. 5 'm¦ ¦ ;«*,x ta«i¦•ï"'r *, r »>}HO**»OOooofi?«HC!C*3OtenQOO> — IOs-4