SPAN: January 1962

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JANUARY DEEP in the south-western .comer . of ColoJ;ado, on a plateau 12,000 feet above sea level is located the Mesa Verde National Park noted for. the best preserved prehistoric cliff dwellings in the United States. . .The early Spanish settlers who save tIus green-forested plateau its name, hardly had an inkling ohvhat wonders lay below in its canyons: Only in 1874 was it discovered that high on this table rock an earlier people had planted a civilization which flourished from about the first to the thirteenth centuries A.D. and vanished .nearly three centuries before Columbus set foot on the New World. . Since 1906 this archreolog~cal preserve sprawling over thousands of acres has been maintained by the U.S. Government as one of its National Parks. These parks encompass more than thirteen million acres 'of the .country's most scenic .lands, rich in the lore of prehistoric American cultun~s,although Mesa Verde National Park. is ¡the only one created to. preserve the work of man. ~uch areas are usually preserved as National Monumerits.¡ .

The first' Mesa Verde ruin was unearthed in 1874. Two cowboys, Richard Wetherill and Charles Mason, hunting a herd o(stray cattle came to the edge of the table rock and were the first to discover the.Prehistoric, fortresslike dwellings that were. the homes of aboriginal Red .Indians who farmed the mesa top.

Wetherill and Mason discovered the ghostly splendour of Cliff Palace, largest of the ancient villages that stand like nests carved in the canyon walls. They also found Spruce Tree House, Square Tower House and other major sites. Thereafter began a systematic exploration for further clues about this ancient American civilizati0 n.

In the variety of structures of cliff dv,iellings, Mesa Verde records the history of this Indian civilization.

Beginning with a simple culture at about the beginning of the Christian era, these people had reached by the en~ of. the thirteenth century a relatively high level' of civilization that had spread in some small degree to the wild tribes with whom they had contact.

The apartment houses which were' ultimately built by these ancient inhabitants in the canyons' natural caves, and which still stand, provided dwellings for up to four hundred families.This remarkaply sound architecture was evolved fr9m a simple pit-like house without'a roof which the earliest aboriginal settlers dug on the top of the mesa.. ,

1962

Indrani Rahman has just completed a highly successful tour of the U.S. In an exclusive interview with SPAN, Indrani discussed her views of the living art-~ of the dance. See page sixteen.

4

ROOSEVELT

by V. S. Nanda

10 HYDE PARK Photographs by Lawrence Riordan

14 THE CHEMICAL REVOLUTION IN MEDICINE 16 THE LIVING ART OF DANCE 21 AN END TO ARMS Photographs by David Seymour

24

THERE WAS A CHILD WENT FORTH

by Walt Whitman

30 34

THE NEHRU VISIT DESIGN FOR POWER AND BEAUTY

by Camilla McComber

42 LIFE'S MYSTERIOUS CLOCKS

by Frank A. Brown, Jr.

48 ART IN A BANK

by Katherine Kuh

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United States Information Service, Sikandra Road, New Delhi, on behalf of The American Embassy, New Delhi.

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Service.

J.

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F

THE

REVOLUTIONARY

ROM time to time, history presents the paradox of a leader born an aristocrat who comes to symbolize the aspirations of the- common man. Such a leader was Franklin Delano Roosevelt, thirty-second President of the United States, a democrat of historic proportions.

FDR belonged to the American landed gentry and was brought up like a country squire, with all the advantages that wealth and social status could confer. But his ideals and beliefs, and the policies he adopted as President in pursuance of those beliefs, brought him closer emotionally and ideologically to the people at large than to his own class. Between him and the millions of¡ ommon American citizens there grew up over the years a strong bond of friendship and affection. The mournful crowds which gathered outside the White House on the night of his death felt a deep sense of personal, tragic loss. And sixteen years later, thousands each year visit his grave in the garden of his home in Hyde Park-the lOOO-.acre

estate in New York State which he bequeathed to the nation-to pay their silent tribute to the memory of a great man, a great revolutionary and a true friend of the people.

When Roosevelt was inaugurated President in March 1933, it was a time of unprecedented depression and national frustration. The national income had been reduced to less than half of what it had been four years earlier. Some seventeen million people were unemployed and the whole economic system seemed on the verge of collapse. Hundreds of thousands of men sat idle at home or in the parks all day long-and sometimes all night long-grumbling and muttering with fear and discontent.

Almost all factories were operating far below capacity and thousands of retail stores were shut. Most people were deeply in debt and those who had bank balances were not sure of being able to draw on them. The general

ROOSEVELT picture was one of gloom, despondency, confusion and despair. The American people anxiously awaited the New Deal to which the new President had pledged himself and the nation.

Entering his office in the White House on the morning after the inauguration and sitting in the presidential chair for the first time, Roosevelt had an experience which was symbolic of the general confusion and helplessness felt by the whole nation. His desk was empty, the drawers were empty; looking for buzzers, he could find no buttons to push and not even pencil or pad to make a note, no way to signal to the outside world. But soon he gave a mighty shout and two members of his staff came running to his room. The stentorian accents which summoned them to attention and energy were also symbolic of his clear, confident call which was presently to rouse the nation to the need for urgent and drastic action on the domestic front and, in later years, to the grim realities of a world war.

The first three months of the Roosevelt administration, a period which is known in history as the Hundred Days, was marked by unprecedented, hectic, legislative and administrative activity. During this period-March 9 to June 16, 1933-the new President sent fifteen messages to Congress, initiated and got enacted fifteen major laws, delivered ten speeches, held Cabinet meetings and press conferences twice a week, had talks with foreign heads of state and sponsored an international conference on PanAmerican relations. In addition to all this, he dealt in the routine course of his new office with many other major issues in the domestic or foreign fields which called for presidential initiative or decision.

The most urgent need was to save the nation's banking system from collapse. While the President and his advisers were working on a suitable scheme, a bank holiday-to last for eighty hours, until the reconvening of the Congress-was proclaimed to give the banks a sorely

needed respite. The Banking Bill, as finally passed, introduced a number of important financial reforms. Banks were to be reopened, after careful review, only under a system of licences. A system of federal guarantees of deposits was set up. More generous credit facilities were made available both to industry and agriculture through new governmental agencies. The revised currency policy encouraged an upward movement in commodity prices and afforded relief to debtors. The Banking Act also gave the Secretary of the Treasury power to prevent hoarding of gold and to take over gold, bullion and metal currency, in exchange for paper currency. So great was the general sense of urgency, emphasized in the President's message to Congress, that both Houses passed the Bill after the briefest debate and it was at the White House for Roosevelt's signature in less than eight hours after its introduction.

The day before the Congress met, Roosevelt held a press conference to discuss the banking crisis. This conference, which was the first of the hundreds of meetings he had with the press during his four terms of office, set the pattern for the frank, informal, good-humoured exchange of views and give-and-take in which Roosevelt delighted. Four days later, on the Sunday after his assumption of office, he enlarged his audience and gave the first of his very popular radio "fireside chats," directed to the millions of American men and women in shops, fields, factories, offices and at home. In a candid analysis of the banking situation and the steps necessary to improve it, he assured them that their money in the closed banks was safe. His message to them was one of hope and courage.

"Let us unite in banishing fear," said Roosevelt, and the nation immediately responded. Commenting on the transformation which occurred in the national climate, Walter Lippmann wrote: "In one week the nation, which had lost confidence in everything and everybody, has regained confidence in the government and in itself."

R

OOSEVEL T'S experience as Assistant Secretary of the Navy under President Wilson and his ventures into Wall Street had made him somewhat sceptical of the bona fides of big business. He came to dislike especially the giant corporations which swallowed their competitors and the gamblers on the stock exchanges. He consistently criticized business leadership and remarked once: "I certainly have no especial respect or admiration for and no trust in the typical big-monied men of my country."

As Assistant Secretary of the Navy he had come into contact with labour in the naval dockyards and had acquired valuable experience in labour relations and the art of handling men. Later, as Governor of New York, he expanded this experience, and, in the light of it, introduced a number of social welfare measures which foreshadowed the sweeping legislation of his presidency.

It was Roosevelt who first clearly enunciated the principle, now accepted as axiomatic, that the state is the people, and that the state has the obligation of guaranteeing a livelihood to all its citizens. In a memorable speech delivered a year before he became President he pleaded for "the forgotten man at the bottom of the economic pyramid."

Against this background it is not difficult to visualize the crusading spirit of the New Deal. The Banking Act was quickly followed by a multiplicity of measures designed to overhaul and reinvigorate all branches of the national economy. Among the first to receive attention was agriculture. The net income of farm workers in 1932 was about one-third of what it was three years earlier.

Agricultural indebtedness stood at a staggering figure and many farms were mortgaged to banks or insurance companies. The Agricultural Adjustm~nt Act sought to stabilize farm prices, mainly by controlling production, span January

1962

5

Playwright Dore Schary wrote a highly successful Broadway play, Sunrise at Campobello, based on Roosevelt's victory over polio. The play opens just before Roosevelt was stricken during a vacation at his summer home at Campobello in August 1921. Ralph Bellamy, who played Roosevelt in both the stage and movie productions, is shown above during filming at Hyde Park. With him are Mrs. Roosevelt, seated centre, Greer Garson, who played the President's wife in the screen version. In the scene from the film at right, Roosevelt is helped by his wife as he tries to learn to walk . again after polio has paralysed his legs.

subsidizing certain crops, granting loans and in some cases purchasing surpluses for distribution through relief channels. Through the county production control committees which were soon set up, the farmers subjected themselves to a novel process of economic self-government. As an example of the extraordinary steps taken, about a quarter of the 1933 cotton crop was deliberately ploughed under. It is not surprising that the drastic character of this legislation aroused criticism in some quarters, but it succeeded in its objective of raising farm prices-they had risen by 50 per cent by 1936-and of improving agricultural economy generally.

Turning their attention next to industry, Roosevelt and his team of New Dealers addressed themselves to the task of industrial recovery. The National Industrial Recovery Act was a comprehensive measure aimed at stimulating industry, eliminating unfair competition, putting people back to work, improving wages and working conditions, and establishing the historic right of labour to collective bargaining "through representatives of their own choosing." A section in the Act provided for the setting up, as a relief measure, of the Public Works Administration which gradually absorbed about a million men. An allied organization was the Central Works Administration which, at its peak, had some 400,000 projects of all kinds-roads, schools, parks, waterways, swimming pools, sewers-in operation and employed four million people.

Like the Agricultural Act, the National Industrial Recovery Act was also the subject of considerable controversy and criticism, especially by big business, and both Acts were later declared unconstitutional by the Supreme Court and replaced by fresh legislation. But, together with the other measures adopted-such as the Emergency Farm Mortgage Act, the Farm Credit Act, Home Owners' Loan Act, the Securities Exchange Act and the Social Security Act-they represented a massive effort at national reconstruction. Breaking away from the inhibitions of the past, the New Deallaid the beginnings 6

S1!an

January 1962

of a system of planned economy and established valuable precedents for the working of the modern welfare state.

One important offshoot of the New Deal and an earnest of the better America which Roosevelt and his associates had dedicated themselves to bring into being, was the Tennessee Valley Authority. The President had long believed in de-urbanization and restoring the balance between the city and the countryside. He saw in this ambitious project not only its immense potentiality for electric power generation but a means of redressing this balance and achieving a new design of national living which combined farming with part-time employment in local industry. The great success of TVA in the wide range of its activities-extending from the production of cheap electric power and fertilizers to flood control, reforestation, reclamation of land and rural education-has belied its critics and is a tribute to Roosevelt's vision and nation-building capacity. TVA is a fine example of the public sector operating at its best and has inspired the launching of similar multi-purpose projects in other countries.

Indeed many of the measures which Roosevelt took to plan and control the national economy of the United States anticipated the social and economic legislation which several countries have since introduced in pursuance of the objectives of a welfare state. In his bold disregard of the doctrinaire philosophy of laissez faire politicians and in his imaginative expansion of the State's role in many spheres of activity without sacrifice of civil liberties, Roosevelt established a pattern of democratic government which still provides a dynamic model for free societies.

The first hundred days of Roosevelt's presidency in fact achieved a revolution within the framework of the U.S. Constitution. Whereas the role of the federal government had previously been most deliberately and carefully segregated from the private economy of the nation, under Roosevelt's leadership the government now entered into the domain of private commerce and industry as the

The liviilg-dining room, above, in the "Little White HOllse" in Georgia. It was in this house, be/ore he became President, that Roosevelt lived during his battle against polio. At right is a model 0/ the prize-winning design jor a proposed memorial to the late President. It will be erecfed in Washington.

regulatory force to ensure both a sounder economy and to protect the basic rights and welfare of the individual worker and the consumer.

PRIOR to Roosevelt's inauguration, the federal government's function with respect to the national economy had been to guarantee a climate of freedom for business, on the assumption that prosperity for invested capital would ensure the optimum prosperity for the individual.

With the coming of Roosevelt, this orientation of perspective was reversed and the federal government became the guarantor of the livelihood, welfare and earning capacity of the individual citizen as the best base for the prosperity of invested capital.

How was Roosevelt able to carrv out such a comprehensive programme of social and economic reform and how bring to fruition the multifarious schemes devised with the assistance of his "brain trust"-his team of expert advisers? The answer is to be found in his limitless energy, robust vitality, grim determination and neverfailing optimism. Strange as it may sound, the paralysis which crippled him physically at the early age of thirtynine left him more robust in spirit, and his indomitable will not only conquered his affliction but expressed itself in an amazing output of energy and work. He once remarked: "The reason I get so much done is I don't have to waste time with my legs."

Winston Churchill said of him: "To encounter Roosevelt, with all his buoyant sparkle, his iridescence, is like opening a bottle of champagne."

In spite of the bitter criticism and opposition he aroused among the rropertied classes, the nation expressed its supreme confidence in Roosevelt's leadership by electing him President for the second term by the largest vote in American presidential history and by re-electing him to the office of President for unprecedented third and fourth terms.

His critics and opponents have sometimes charged Roosevelt with assuming the role of a dictator, but the charge will not bear examination. Roosevelt was a leader of democracy and was fully conscious of his obligations to act within the limits of the constitution and with the concurrence of Congress. He did not wish to usurp power nor to smash the existing order. In one of his speeches

he said: "r would rather b~ a builder than a wrecker, hoping always that the structure of life is growing, not dying." While he was admittedly instrumental in bringing about substantial changes in the economic order and in the balance of power between important social groups, the changes were obtained through a process of adjustment and through constitutional revolution, not through a violation of the existing system of government.

Roosevelt had in fact an abiding faith in the American constitution and was confident that the national government, which he headed, could fulfil its new responsibilities within the framework of the constitution.

He believed, however, in the inherent flexibility of the constitution and a liberal interpretation of its provisions to meet the new challengcs and problems of his time. He was skilful in maintaining an effective relationship between the legislative and executive branches of the government and was often willing to compromise with the Congress over controversial measures. And even more important than the co-operation of Congress was the support of the voters which he had in abundant measure. No one appreciated better than him the vital role of public opinion as a potent force in American political life.

Apart from the number of visitors from all areas of life and representing various shades of opinion whom Roosevelt saw from day to day, the White House mail from all over the country ancl comprising some four thousand letters daily, kept him posted about what the A,merican people were thinking. To get his own vie\vs across to the people and enlighten public opinion, he developed the press conference as an effective instrument of mass commul1lcation, and also made judicious use of the radio. During his twelve years as President he held more than one thousand press conferences. His radio "fireside chats" were models of simple, intimate, persuasive talk which succeeded remarkably in interpreting his aims and personality to his listeners. ~ "Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than war," sang the poet. Roosevelt was one of the main architects of the Allied victory in the Second World War. His claim to greatness will, however, perhaps rest mainly on his labours to promote the well-being of the common man in America and, later, as one of the founders of the United Nations, to pledge humanity to peace and freedom and to the guarantee of the inalienable rights of all men.

ROOSEVELT

(Continued)

THt~ WOIRLD DEMOCRAT "God

0/

the Free, we pledge our hearts and lives today to the cause 0/ all/ree mankind .... Our earth is but a small star in tile great universeyet 0/ it we can make, i/ we choose, a planet unvexed by war, untroubled by hunger or lear, undivided by senseless distinctions 0/ race, colour or theory."

-Franklin D. Roosevelt's prayer on the eve of D-Day in 1944.

"T

HE present chaotic world condition refreshes vividly the memory of this man of peace. Today, as never before, we need his abiding faith that men and nations can, and some day will, live in peace together."

These words were spoken by Governor Ernest Vandiver in April 1961 at the opening of the Roosevelt Museum in Warm Springs, Georgia. It was the sixteenth anniversary of the death of Franklin D. Roosevelt.

The Governor's words emphasize the sometimes forgotten fact that Roosevelt was essentially a man of peace who, like his illustrious predecessor, Abraham Lincoln, was forced into war when vital human issues were at stake. The day before his death Roosevelt wrote: "More than an end to war, we want an end to the beginnings of all wars .... Today we are faced with the pre-eminent fact that, if civilization is to' survive, we must cultivate

the science of human relationship-the ability of all peoples, of all kinds, to live and work together, in the same world, at peace."

Closely allied to his strong faith in the ability of the nations of the world to live together in peace-and indeed as a corollary of it-was Roosevelt's passionate belief in freedom for all peoples. In January 1941 he enunciated his famous Four Freedoms-freedom of speech and expression, freedom from want and freedom from fearas universal rights of all mankind. He declared that these essential freedoms were not the monopoly of any particular nation or community but must be guaranteed to people everywhere and anywhere. Great liberal ideas cannot remain cribbed and confined and, although the President's words were addressed to the United States Congress, they were heard far beyond the Capitol walls.

In the light of these aspiring words, the war against the Fascist powers acquired a new meaning for subject peoples longing to be rid of the yoke of colonialism and imperialism.

These principles of freedom and self-government for all peoples were later embodied in the Atlantic Charter, issued on August 14, 1941, after a dramatic meeting between President Roosevelt and the British Prime Minister Winston Churchill. Of special significance in this eightpoint statement of peace aims and objectives was the declaration that the signatories "respect the rights of aU peoples to choose the form of government under which they will live." Another vital article in the Charter held forth the assurance that after the establishment of peace "all the men in all the lands may live out their lives in freedom from fear and want." Within six weeks of the issue of the original statement the representatives of fifteen governments pledged themselves to the principles and policies set forth in the Atlantic Charter, and a little later it provided the nucleus for the Declaration of the United Nations-a term coined by Roosevelt-which was signed by twenty-six nations.

T

0 ROOSEVELT, as one of its co-authors, the Atlantic Charter was no formal, idealistic statement of peace aims and objectives. The State papers on foreign relations of 1942 reveal his profound interest in "independence for all those who aspire to independence." When the question of Indian independence was being hotly debated early in 1942, he took an active interest in the negotiations between the British Government and Indian leaders. In his messages to Winston Churchill at the time he repeatedly voiced his concern with the Indian situation and, while recognizing its complexities, expressed his desire to be of help in finding a solution. After the failure of the Cripps mission, he urged Churchill to make a further, final effort to prevent a breakdown of the negotiations and remarked that American public opinion could not understand "why, if the British Government is willing to permit the component parts of India to secede from the British empire after the war, it is not willing to permit them to enjoy what is tantamount to self-government during the war."

In expressing these sentiments and giving the American Government's support to the cause of freedom everywhere, Roosevelt was seeking to translate into the universal context those principles enshrined in the American Declaration of Independence and implemented in the American democratic process. His concern for general human welfare and a fair deal for the people of all lands was also a logical extension of his passionate interest in the welfare of the common man in America.

Consistent with his dedication to peace, Roosevelt

did his best to prevent the conflagration in Europe and, after the war broke out, to avoid the United States' involvement in it. When the international situation deteriorated in the Spring of 1939 with Hitler's suppression of Czechoslovakia and Mussolini's invasion of Albania, he addressed a long appeal to the two dictators.

He urged that they give assurances of their peaceable intentions to some thirty nations whose names were given and from whom the President undertook to seek counterpledges of peace. But the appeals proved unavailing as did those he addressed later in the year to Hitler, King Victor Emmanuel of Italy and President Moscicki of Poland, regarding the Danzig corridor issue. The German armies entered Poland on September 1, 1939, and the Second World War had begun.

Roosevelt had of course been alert for some time to the realities of the situation in Europe and the Far East and, in the face of opposition from the isolationists in America, had been sounding the call of danger in unmistakable terms. In this context the following passage from a speech he delivered to the Congress at the beginning of 1939, is significant: "There comes a time in the affairs of men when they must prepare to defend not their homes alone, but the tenets of faith and humanity on which their churches, their government and their very civilization are founded. We know what might happen to us if the new philosophy of force were to encompass the other continents and invade our own."

In spite of his apprehensions and in spite of his undoubted sympathies for Great Britain and France, he proclaimed the neutrality of the United States. Although, to quote his own words, America quickly developed into "the great arsenal of democracies," it was not until the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour on December 7, 1941, that the United States entered the war. The surprise assault on Pearl Harbour sent a wave of indignation throughout the country and finally routed the isolationists and appeasers.

The successful pursuit of war objectives called for an unprecedented, gigantic organization effort. But the President was equal to the task and the same indefatigable energy, wide resourcefulness, robust optimism and burning faith which had earlier enabled him to guide the country out of the worst economic crisis in its history now made him a redoubtable war leader in full control of the overall strategy of the war. Under his leadership almost unattainable goals of production were set and achieved. Holding that the democracies in Europe were the first line of American defence, he did everything possible to ensure an effective flow of war material and other essential goods to them, and this was facilitated by the flexible mechanism of the Lend-Lease Bill passed earlier.

As leader and commander-in-chief of the biggest power ranged against the Fascist countries, Roosevelt played a crucial role in the Allied victory and destruction of Hitlerism. In historic conferences with Churchill and Stalin-at Casablanca in January 1943, Quebec in August 1943, Cairo and Tehran in November 1943, and Yalta in February 1945-the grand military and political strategy of the war was planned.

Roosevelt died on April 12, 1945, when the Allied victory in Europe was assured but not yet a fact. Neither did he live to see the formal inauguration of the United Nations which met for the first time at San Francisco within a fortnight of his death. But both as the chief architect of victory and one of the founders of the world organization, dedicated to peace and progress, his role was vital and has left its impress on our generation. In common with other truly great leaders, he does not belong to America alone but to all hum-anity.•

This cradle and the rocking horse "Alexico" are relics of the President's in/aJICY.

HYDE fARI( ON

the' east shore of the Hudson River in New York State, stands Hyde Park, the ancestral home of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. The ninety-four-acre estate where Roosevelt was born, reared and buried, is today a national historic shrine. It contains a library and a museum which are the official repository for the papers and relics of the late President's career.

The Hyde Park mansion, originally known as Springwood, was built in 1826 and was purchased by President Roosevelt's father, James Roosevelt, in 1867. Many changes were made in the original clapboard building by the elder Roosevelt, but it was Franklin himself who rebuilt it in 1915.

Dolls /rom India are among the many foreign gifts received by the Roosevelts.

ROOSEVELT

(Continued)

Throughout his public life President Roosevelt returned to this Hyde Park house both to work and to relax. Statesmen and distinguished guests from many countries were entertained here.

It was during his second term in office that he conceived and implemented his plan to make his ancestral home a public museum. He presented his old house and its grounds to the federal government and it was designated as a national historic site by Congress in January 1944. It was formally opened to the public on April 12, 1946, the first anniversary of Roosevelt's death. Today the museum and the library attract thousands of visitors every year.

Hyde Park is not very grand in its physical dimensions. The only room of notable size is the library on the south. The visitor descends into this room from the slightly higher floor of the old central room. It is in this library that Roosevelt's personality might be most strongly felt. The great man sitting beside the fire, absorbed in his papers, around him the books that he collected, including the rare ones having to do with naval lore or local history. The library's naval exhibition room contains.-parts of President Roosevelt's extensive collection of ship models, naval paintings and prints.

In the "President's Room" of the library Mr. Roosevelt worked on his books and papers and there he held some of his talks with world leaders during the war years. He also made a number of important radio speeches from this room. Its large Persian rug is the gift of the Shah of Iran, presented during the Tehran Conference in 1943.

The main exhibition room of the library displays some of the treasured personal possessions of Mr. Roosevelt-art objects, mementoes and gifts.

On the second floor visitors may see President Roosevelt's boyhood bedroom, a room he also used later in life after his paralysis attack.

Only a few yards away from the house, in the southern section of the family's rose garden is the President's grave where he lies beneath a plain, undecorated block of white marble on which is inscribed: Franklin Delano Roosevelt 1882-1945 .•

President Roosevelt's body rests here in a small rose garden bordered by a hundred-year-old hemlock hedge in the Hyde Park estate.

Dr. Kotara Murai is conducting an experiment with the multitubufar counter-current separator, which permits scientists to separate complex chemical mixtures into their components.

The Chemical

"1

N the past twenty years, an almost complete chemical revolution in medicine has taken place. In these few years many infectious diseases have fallen before a chemical and biological onslaught. Pneumonia is no longer the uncontrolled killer of twenty years ago; mastoiditis, a serious complication of middle ear infection that plagued children in past generations, is seldom seen; and the number of diphtheria cases has dropped 94.7 per cent. The rate of paralytic poliomyelitis has been cut 80 per cent in four short years. . ..

"Life expectancy at birth in the United States, which has increased from 47 years in 1900 to over 69 years in 1956, has increased almost 10 years since 1937 alone."

This is the statement of an authoritative spokesman for the pharmaceutical industry in the United States, an industry which has played a leading role in this drama of medical progress.

These changes have resulted from concentration on basic scientific research and the development of practical applications for this research.

Not only have new chemicals and

Revolution in Medicine

A technician inoculates fertile eggs, aile of the first steps ill the production of many virus vaccines.

Production of the Salk polio vaccine is carried out under completely sterile conditions.

To ensure the consumer a standard product, antibiotics in the final stage of production, top picture, are inspected by a masked worker before they are inspected under sterile conditions by gloved workers to ensure they are securely capped. The pharmacist in the bottom picture points out to a consumer the pharmaceutical formula which must be printed on the label of every bottle of medicine sold.

A section of the penicillin plant of a large U.S. pharmaceutical company is shown above. Ten thousand gallons of culture broth must be processed to obtain a few ounces of sterile penicillin powder.

biologicals for preventing disease been found, but ways of developing these order that they may be use to the most people in possible time.

and curing also better products in of greatest the shortest

A report released by the Pham1aceutical Manufacturers Association stated that the U.S. pharmaceutical industry spent $197 million on research and development during the year 1959, and estimated that $214 million was spent in 1960. The 1959 expenditure, 16 per cent higher than in 1958, amounted to 7.8 per cent of the member companies' pharmaceu-

tical sales of more than $2.5 billion.

More than $18 million of the 1959 total expenditure of $197 million was spent outside of pharmaceutical house laboratories in the form of grants and contracts to medical schools ($3,400,000), hospitals ($2,400,000), research institutes ($2,000,000), other academic institutions ($1,800,000), and other unspecified grants ( $8,400,000).

The U.S. Government, through the National Institutes of Health, expended $142,627,730 on medical research projects _in 1959, and $198,719,397 in 1960 .•

PAN: What problems face the artist who performs the classic S Indian dances in the professional theatre?

An Interview

INDRANI

with

RAHMAN

INDRANI Rahman, internationally acclaimed Indian dancer, has just completed a highly successful tour of the United States. A three-month schedule of recitals took her and her troupe from coast to coast with performances in more than thirty-five cities. The troupe won enthusiastic critical acclaim in all parts of the nation.

A highlight of the tour was Indrani's recital for President Kennedy and Prime Minister Nehru, presented at the official dinner given by the Prime Minister at the Indian Embassy in Washington during his visit to the United States in November.

Indrani's mother, Ragini Devi, an American, is a well-known dancer. She played a prominent role in the revival of Bharata Natya and was one of the first to introduce Indian dancing to the United States. She also wrote one of the first books on Indian dance published in America, entitled Nritanjali, An Introduction to Hindu Dancing, 1928.

This exclusive interview with SPAN, in which Indrani discusses her art, was recorded several days prior to her departure for her tour of the United States.

The photographs of Indrani dancing were made by SPAN's Photo Editor, A. C. Pasricha, at the recitals presented in Delhi last September.

I DRA I : There are many aspects to this problem. For example, when in the old days the dancers performed in the temple or in the court, they had a completely different way of perfonning, but now artists must be concerned more and more with the presentation of their art for the public.

In the traditional temple dances of the past, the audience was unconcerned with the style of the presentation. The people sat in a somewhat uncomfortable way between the dancer and the temple image. But they didn't mind the absence of comfort, and they had little concern for the artistic aspect of the presentation of the dance.

The important thing was the ritual and the performance for the god.

But what's happening now? Now the dancers have the stage and a very different kind of audience. So there must be consideration for presentation and style. The dance had taken form in the open air and in,the villages and temples or the court. But to bring the classical dances onto the stage required adjustments. It should not be brought on the stage at all by artists who are not willing to adjust. You are aware that one. category of dance-lovers-the purists and traditionalists-naturally feel hurt at every small innovation a dancer may introduce. But traditional art does not mean merely accurate repetition of what a previous generation has done and which cannot be done today. So there should be adjustment. That alone can ensure the continued flow of the creative essence in any art field.

The line of development Indian dance has taken during the past few centuries is no less interesting and should provide a clue for the future.

These temple festivals you know, were special occasions for a display of classical dancing by the devadasis.

When these temple girls used to render such beautiful dances as gitam, jatiswaram, varnam and sukumara lasya, they were honoured with titles and gifts by kings. But gradually the southern kingdoms declined and the British rule came into India. The royal patronage of the arts, slowly diminishing, ceased completely and dance and music vanished from temples and palaces. Eventually, mainly because of its association with the devadasis, the art came into disfavour with orthodox Hindu society.

SPAN: Are the objections which have been raised by traditionalists concerned primarily with the Bharata Natya style?

INDRAN[: Yes. But it is also a very general thing, this problem. Take, for example, the case of Kathakali, that magnificent and highly developed form of dance-drama from Kerala.

It has a gesture language equivalent to speech, a marvellous art of abhinaya based on the Natyashastra, and it has a dynamic mode of dance. But in its purest orthodox form, as in the Kerala villages, it is a tediously lengthy performance, going on and on for several nights. The whole Ramayana and the whole Mahabharata, which these dances are based on. Of course, once you go to these dances in the villages, you have to adjust to the time-sense of the traditional style. You have no amenities at all, but you aren't span

January 1962

17

fJnd7.ani a~ ..ÂŁak~t;.mi and !l3ali7.am a~ c:IInantana7.a!Jana.

fJhe .-ÂŁir.:ringd/-'d

of :Dance

(Continued)

especially aware of the prolonged nature of the performance. You expect it. But suppose you are sitting in an auditorium-your reaction would be different.

And there is the problem of those prolonged dialogues, partly in Malayalam and partly in Sanskrit. Obviously, the performer is narrating this and that and it goes on for a long time.

It is not for the usual Indian theatre audience. Few people in the audience could follow the language. So you see, considerable changes have to be incorporated before presenting a Kathakali programme of two and half hours in an auditorium, as it is being done today. The other dance styles like Bharata Natya, Kuchipudi or Orissi have also similar problems to face. The classical dances, without losing their basic characteristics and deeply entrenched traditional roots, must find a new dramatic medium for presentation on the modern stage.

SPAN: To what degree does an artist possess the prerogative to exercise a creative interpretation of the traditional or classical forms?-

INDRA I : I just spoke about condensing and adjusting to the change of locale from a temple to a theatre for what is a salutary reform of Indian dance and music. What line it should now follow and what should be the philosophy of the changes made is, I think, a difficult question which we have all been very much concerned with during our revival movement.

You know, so far we have been most concerned with reviving and preserving an art which might, otherwise, have been completely lost. But we feel equally concerned with the future, and I am sure every artist of Indian dance is aware of this. The important thing now, I feel, is to encourage the development of talented artists who are able to create and arrange our forms of dance. I believe this depends on individuals who have the gift and an atmosphere of encouragement may produce a genius of I ndian dance.

SPA : Certainly an art must be alive and grow. Otherwise, it becomes a craft or a ritual. How do you see your own application of this principle to your art?

INDRANI: Well, I have a very fearful and timid attitude still about my own abilities in this direction. I have so far been only traditional. The entire choreography of my dance is absolutely in the strictest Indian classical techniques, as taught to me through many years of training with Vidwans Pandanallur Chokkalingam Pillai and Sikkil Ramaswami Pillai of Tanjore and Vidwan C. R. Acharyulu of Andhra Pradesh. I have presented a very orthodox type of performance until recently when I began trying a few innovations in addition to condensing and presenting my dances without some of the awkward distortions of the traditional style. I have taken certain liberties in the

technique of Bharata Natya, as also in the other styles. But whatever new I have tried to do is with the utmost respect and regard for tradition. You know, between my mother and I, we represent perhaps fifty-sixty years of dancing in the traditional style. If I do anything different, it should be an improvement. It should be good or it should not be done at all. And the small innovations I have made have always had the full approval of my gurus. About 150 years ago, it was the ancestors of my major guru who reorganized the programme ofBharata Natya to be danced in four hours' time. That was doing something quite unconventional for that time. Now 150 years have passed, during which India has advanced more rapidly than in any other period of its history.

You see, this is a continuous process and the only time this advancement will stop is w.hen we cease to have creative ability, when we have no span

January

1962

19

9he

J}iuinfj dt'tt

of

r.1::>a.nce (Conrinued)

inspiration and have reached a completely dried-up stage. Can we say that we, Indians, are today in such a stage? What nonsense!

SPAN: Do you think a distinct form of Indian ballet will emerge?

INDRANI: I do. In fact, next year when we come back from the United States, I hope to do some experiments in that direction. I think, we have had two really important experimentalists towards something new in Indian dance, particularly in ballet formone was Shanti Bardhan who unfor-

tunately died prematurely, and the other is Uday Shankar. But this experimentation wasn't completely successful in the sense that it didn't become a movement. Then there are the experiments in the truly traditional line. I have always felt, and I feel it more and more, that in traditional dance-drama, instead of doing the same thing over and over again, we should project the beauty of our traditionallife in a fully expressive form.

You see, the whole thing is complex.

A living art, a growing art must have real roots. Indian dance has those roots. It must grow, and can only

grow, from the roots of its traditions, just like a tree. I think it is a very important thing to remember. Mere invention is not really the vital part of art. Art should always be developing. We can't expect a revolution in art. But if we admit that art can change and grow, I think we can develop something even more in Indian dance.

This doesn't mean that the experiments I am making with my company are necessarily right, good, perfect or marvellous. The important thing is that we are alive, that we see the Indian dance as a living art. That's important, -isn't it?

The world's best hope for its children

THE

world's children are the only assurance for the future of mankind.

Yet, the most helpless victims of war have always been children. They have been innocent casualties of those forces which create war-oppression, political envy, greed for power.

War has deprived countless children of their parents. Often it has transported them into prisons or refugee camps. Or, lost and abandoned, they have been left to run wild like animals, seeking food and shelter wherever it could be found. Many have been physically maimed or their minds mutilated by the terror and the brutality they have endured.

No man has been more aware of their misfortunes or felt more compassion for children than David Seymour, an American photo-journalist who died several years ago. During his lifetime of almost fifty years, he was assigned to cover wars on three continents, and thus witnessed repeatedly the tragic effects of war on

The broken stairs lead nowhere in the ruins of their home.

The empty cup of a wistful orphan is her silent plea for her ration of milk.

Eye-witness to the death of her entire family, this crazed child can produce only chaotic scrawls to describe her bombed home.

An End To Arms

(Continued)

the defenceless young. A sensitive man with a deep and cherishing love for children, he adopted as many as he could, gave money for their needs, or placed them in homes of his friends. But he could not help them all-there were far too many. With his camera, however, he photographed them everywhere with sympathy and understanding so that he left a permanent testament to the fact that the world's best hope for its children is an end to arms and war.

Not long ago one of the great art museums in the United States, the Chicago Art Institute, gave an exhibition of these photographs of David Seymour. The exhibition was more than a memorial to him, it was a message and a warning to the world of what could, under the impact of war, happen to children anywhere.

The children of the world are one and the responsibility of all mankind .•

Frightened and lonely, an orphan in a refugee camp seeks comfort from a friendly adult.

In improvised shelters, these homeless sleep under sugar sacks for warmth.

The indestructible spirit 0/ this war-blinded child is evident in his attempt to read by pressing his lips against the raised print 0/ a Braille book. He cannot use his fingertips, because his arms were wounded by war and had to be amputated just below his shoulders.

Childhood instincts persist, although the doll is headless.

This ragged victim o/war still shows childish delight at the promise 0/ candy.

There Was a

Went Forth

by Walt Whitman

T HERE was a child went forth every day, And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became, And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day, Or for many years or stretching cycles of years-;

T

HE early lilacs became part of this child, And grass and white and red morning-glories, and white and red clover, and the song of the phrebe-bird, And the Third-month lambs and the sow's pink-faint litter, and the mare's foal and the cow's calf, And the noisy brood of the barnyard or by the mire of the pond-side, And the fish suspending themselves so curiously below there, and the¡beautiful curious liquid, And the water-plants with their graceful flat heads, all became part of him.

This poem was written by Walt Whitman between 1855 and 1871. It was published in a group of poems entitled "Autumn Rivulets" in the seventh edition of Leaves of Grass, which appeared in 1881.

There Was a Child Went

THEhim,field-sprouts of Fourth-month

Forth

(Continued)

and Fifth-month became part of

Winter-grain sprouts and those of the light-yellow corn, and the esculent roots of the garden, And the apple-trees cover'd with blossoms and the fruit afterward, and wood-berries, and the commonest weeds by the road, And the old drunkard staggering home from the outhouse of the tavern whence he had lately risen, And the schoolmistress that pass'd on her way to the school, And the friendly boys that pass'd, and the quarrelsome boys, And the tidy and fresh-cheek'd girls, and the b::~refootnegro boy and girl, And all the changes of city and country wherever he went.

HIS

own parents, he that had father'd him and she that had conceiv'd him in her womb and birth'd him, They gave this child more of themselves than that, They gave him afterward every day, they became part of him.

There Was a Child Went

THE

Forth

(Continued)

mother at home quietly placing the dishes on the supper-table, The mother with mild words, clean her cap and gown, a wholesome odor falling off her person and clothes as she walks by, The father, strong, self-sufficient, manly, mean, anger'd, unjust, The blow, the quick loud word, the tight bargain, the crafty lure, The family usages, the language, the company, the furniture, the yearning and swelling heart, Affection that will not be gainsay'd, the sense of what is real, the thought if after all it should prove unreal, The doubts of day-time and the doubts of night-time, the curious whether and how, Whether that which appears so is so, or is it all flashes and specks?

Men and women crowding fast in the streets, if they are not flashes and specks what are they?

The streets themselves and the facades of houses, and goods in the windows, Vehicles, teams, the heavy-plank'd wharves, the huge crossing at the ferries, The village on the highland seen from afar at sunset, the river between, Shadows, aureola and mist, the light falling on roofs and gables of white or brown two miles off, The schooner near by sleepily dropping down the tide, the little boat slack-tow'd astern, The hurrying tumbling waves, quick-broken crests, slapping, The strata of colour'd clouds, the long bar of maroon-tint away solitary by itself, the spread of purity it lies motionless in, The horizon's edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh and shore mud, These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will always go forth every day.•

Gathered around Prime Minister Nehru at International Airport in Washington, as he responds to President Kennedy's welcome, are, left to right, U.S. Ambassador to India J. K. Galbraith, Secretary of State Dean Rusk, Indian Ambassador to the United States B. K. Nehru, Vice President Lyndon Johnson and President Kennedy.

FEW foreign visitors to the United

The Nehru

Visit

States have attracted greater public attention than Prime Minister Nehru who paid his fourth visit to that country in November, accompanied by his daughter, Mrs. Indira Gandhi.

Apart from the thousands of Americans who greeted the distinguished statesman at the various public functions organized in his honour, millions saw his thoughtful face reflected from their television sets and heard his sincere and pleasant voice on both television and radio. During the ten days he was in the country, Prime Minister Nehru's photograph was the one the reader was most likely to come

across in the 1,800 daily newspapers and the thousands of magazines and periodicals published in the United States.

The exchange of views on world topics between the Prime Minister and President Kennedy was, in the words of the joint communique, "highly useful in the pursuit of their common objectives of an enduring world peace and enhanced understanding between the Governments of India and the United States." The meetings afforded a unique opportunity for the two world leaders to examine thoroughly their respective positions on vital problems of peace, nuclear tests and disarmament, and resulted in greater mutual confidence and respect. The President was voi'ting

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January 1962

31

THE NEHRU

VISIT

the general regard in which Americans co-operation year." He pointed out hold Mr. Nehru when he said, "Your that while "little is said about the reputation has spread beyond your vast amount of international coborders and has been an inspiration operation that exists, much is said for people throughout the world." about conflict."

Mr. Nehru's 72nd birthday anniverAs guest of the National Press Club in WashingtQlh Mr. Nlthru fa~ltc;1 ~ary ~\}in~ided with hi~ Yi~it to thlJ some five hundred working journalists United States, and it was fitting that, and answered their questions with as part of the birthday celebrations, much frankness and good humour. "Uncle Nehru" should have been In New York he addressed the United greeted by an international group of Nations General Assembly and sug- children at Disneyland, the fabulous gested the observance of a "world amusement park near Los Angeles designed by Walt Disney. One of his last engagements was at Los Angeles where he had planned to meet some 500 Indian university students at a birthday gathering. Instead, 3,500 enthusiastic American students also turned up to wish the Prime Minister a happy birthday and give him a warm send-off.•

TOP CENTRE: World Bank President Eugene Black greets Prime Minister Nehru.

RIGHT, TOP TO BOTTOM: New York City Mayor Robert Wagner introduces the Indian visitors to Earl Brown, City Commissioner for Housing. Ambassador Adlai Stevenson and Acting Secretary General U Thant greet A1r. Nehru at the United NatiollS. The Prime Jvlinister chats with American students in an impromptu meeting. President Kennedy and Prime Minister Nehru had several private talks at the White House.

LEFT TOP: The Prime Minister celebrated his 72nd birthday anniversary at a party arranged

by Indian students in Califomia.

LEFT BELO W: The visitors meet a Sioux Indian actor in Hollywood.

HEN the first electricity was produced recently by a huge W new power plant on the United States-Canadian border, it was the fulfilment of a very old dream. For more than fifty years, United States engineers had looked towards the day when they could harness the full force of one of the world's most powerful rivers to make electricity.

Now the plant is a reality.

The river is the Niagara, which drops 325 feet over cataracts and falls in its 34-mile course between Lake Eric and Lake Ontario. The new hydroelectric development, one of the world's largest, is the Robert Moses Niagara Power Project. The power output of its two generating plants is 2,190,000 kilowatts, exceeding in capacity any plant in the Western Hemisphere, including the giant Grand Coulee Dam in the State of Washington.

The new Niagara River project began power production three years to a day after contracts for its construction were signed. Construction has been rushed and limited operation started because of a power shortage that has existed since 1956, when a power plant was destroyed by a rockslide at Niagara Falls. The project is scheduled for completion and full production by 1963.

The Robert Moses Niagara Power Project, built by the New York State Power Authority and named for its chairman, is a $720,000,000 nonprofit undertaking, financed through the sale of bonds to private investors.

Cost of the plant and interest to investors will be paid through the sale of electricity.

The design of the new project is complex and unique because of United States-Canadian determination to preserve the natural beauty

design for power and beauty

design (or power and beauty of Niagara Falls, visited by millions of tourists each year. The two nations have signed treaties, under which they share equally Niagara River water, plan jointly all water-diversion projects and prohibit the construction of power plants within view of the Falls. Most important of all, treaty agreements guarantee a flow of 100,000 cubic feet of water per second over Niagara Falls in daylight hours during the tourist season.

The big Robert Moses Plant, built on the wall of the Niagara gorge, is the most imposing structure of the new project. It is a towering 38storeys high and 1,800 feet wide.

(Continued)

Down the concrete face of the plant are 13 vanes which conceal the penstocks through which water drops 305 feet to the 13 generating units at the base of the plant. The generators are possibly the largest of their kind ever built. Each weighs 1,115 tons and produces 150,000 kilowatts of power. When all are in operation, their output per year will be 13 billion kilowatt hours of electricity, sufficient to light and power a city of four million people.

The excavated material, as well as the conduit and reservoir areas, will serve two important purposes-improvement and beautification of the

Niagara Falls region. The rock and soil are being used to build a four-lane, scenic riverside highway; to expand the tourist area near Niagara Falls, and to "make" new land for a park, golf course, recreation area and homesites. The land over the buried conduits and around the reservoir will be landscaped and used for parks and recreation.

By 1963, when all construction and improvements are completed, the Niagara project will fulfil two aims of its planners-production of vast quantities of power and beautification of Niagara Falls, one of the world's great natural wonders.O

visit to the

UNITED NATIONS

I

RECALL a story about an Asian visitor to London who asked an Englishman for directions to reach a particular address. "When you reach the Tower area, pause and listen. In the direction from which most of the noise comes, lies the locality you want." It was in a somewhat similar vein that I was answered by a New Yorker when I wished to know the exact location of the United Nations building. "If you keep on walking south, you will not miss a building which looks as if it is about to be blown away by the high wind." This jocular description struck me as right when I saw from a distance the 39-storey U.N. Secretariat building, with its blue-green windows shimmering in the afternoon sun.

I was one of a group of journalists from all over the world who were visiting the United States, and a guided tour of the U.N. headquarters was an important item in our itinerary. The director of the programme facetiously referred to us as "the little U.N." and "elected" Mr. Ahrnstdt of Sweden as our leader. He was promptly dubbed "Dag" Ahrnstdt as he had the affability for which the late Mr. Hammarskjoeld was noted.

1\t the entr~r:ce to the U.N. buildings stood a group of children admmng the arc of flags of the nations of the world and trying to guess which flag belonged to whom.

A U.N. guard on duty kept correcting them. "Isn't India's flag very much like Iran's?" queried a little boy.

"Gee, here is another one, quite similar," said his sister.

Here, thought I, were being sown the seeds of a future where narrow concepts of nationality might break down as a new generation of world citizens came into being.

The U.N. guard was very helpful to the children. When some of them wished to take photographs, he showed them the best point from which to get a full view of the building.

The U.N. headquarters is an impressive landmark between the East River and First Avenue on Manhattan Island. Its 18-acre plot lies in the world's most costly real estate and stretches for six blocks from 42nd to 48th Street. ~ts buildings house the General Assembly, the Secretanat, Conference and Library.

I was gratified to see that it was easy for any visitor to gain ad~issio? to the U.N. meetings which are open to thepnbhc. VISItors enter the 75-foot long lobby and proceed to the Information Centre where smart-looking girl assistants tell them if they may enter a particular gallery instantly or will have to wait. Visitors are impressed by the courtesy and efficiency of the staff who can usually offer an alternative when there is an unavoidable break in a guided tour. "Would you like to see a film show starting in a few minutes?" a guide asked me. The first 816 people to queue up in the morning get the seats reserved for the public in the visitors' galleries.

40

span

January 1962

When I entered the imposing General Assembly Hall, I felt a kind of awe. I recalled the comment of a guide who had accompanied us on a Circle Line cruise around Manhattan. Pointing to the U.N. buildings, he said: "Look there. That is the conscience of mankind. It is a perpetual reminder to all of us that if we do not learn to live together, we shall aU burn together." The meeting hall is a huge auditorium, 165 feet long by 115 feet wide and 75 feet high, equipped with 2,054 seats. Eleven rows of green leather-covered desks and blue upholstered chairs. take up the area reserved for delegates. Seats for guests, visitors and the press rise in theatre-like arrangement to the rear of the hall. Along the side walls are large abstract murals by a French artist. A large U.N. emblem, symbol of the authority of the world body, is on the wall behind the President's podium. Surrounding it are golden shields bearing the emblems of member nations.

When we visited the hall, one of the cleaning attendants pointed out to us the places where the heads of important States such as Mr. Nehru, Mr. Khrushchev, Mr. Nasser and Mr. Soekarno sat during the historic session which debated the Congo problem.

From the Assembly Hall we moved to the Trusteeship Council chamber-the most beautiful of the three chambers, designed and decorated by a Danish architectwhere a debate was in progress. As we entered the chamber, the representative from Kuwait rose and began to speak in his mother tongue. We adjusted our ear-phones and could hear simultaneous translations of the speech in English, French, Russian or Spanish. A journalist from Poland in our group could understand Russian. Another, who hailed from Argentina, beamed and said: "It is not a babel of tongues. I hear Spanish."

What impressed me most about the proceedings was the air of frankness and open-mindedness which prevailed. The U.S. delegate made some observations on the subject under discussion. The Secretary-General took the floor immediately afterwards to clear a possible misunderstanding through wrong interpretation of the language used. One of my journalist friends whispered: "There is no cloak-and-dagger diplomacy. They have to decide in the open." This was indeed so.

Covering the United Nations would be something of a nightmare for any newspaper man if it were not for the facilities provided by the organization. As I sat in the press wing talking to a representative of the Press Trust

of India, the proceedings of the Trusteeship Council were continuously reported through the ear-phones. Suddenly the loudspeaker announced: "Attention, please. The delegate from Canada would like to make a clarification for the press."

"You are lucky chaps," I remarked to my P.T.I. friend. "You have everything prepared and served to you." "But you forget," he answered, "that we have to put in some real hard work. When the General Assembly is discussing an important issue referred to it by the Security Council, we have sometimes to sit all night and work till the early hours of the morning." I observed that U.N. correspondents are rightly proud of the part they are playing in making the world aware of the proceedings of this common council of mankind.

As I came out of the U.N. buildings after a memorable tour, I felt somewhat like the man who had an argument with an atheist. "Even if there were no God, I would invent one," said the believer. I thought that, if there were no United Nations, the millions of believers in peace and progress would soon demand the creation of such a world body .•

Life's Mysterious

Clocks.

by FRANK A. BROWN,

Illustrated

Jr.

by M. Dutta Gupta

o tho ÂĽ

1 \_

ONE of the greatest riddles of the universe is the uncanny ability of livini thinis to carr~ out their normal activities with clocklike precision at a particular time of the day, month and year. Why do oysters plucked from a Connecticut bay and shipped to a Midwest laboratory continue to time their lives to ocean tides 800 miles away? How do potatoes in hermetically sealed containers predict atmospheric pressure trends two days in advance? What effects do the lunar and solar rhythms have on the life habits of man? Living things clearly possess powerful adaptive capacities -but the explanation of whatever strange and permeative forces are concerned continues to challenge science. Let us consider the phenomena more closely.

Over the course of millions of years 1IVingorganisms have evolved

behavioLJ r

or

all

under complex environmental conditions, some obvious and some so subtle that we are only now beginning to understand their influence. One important factor of the environment is its rhythmicality. Contributing to this rhythmicality are movements of the earth relative to the sun and moon.

The earth's rotation relative to the sun gives us our 24-hour day; relative to the moon this rotation, together with the moon's revolution about the earth, gives us our lunar day of 24 hours and 50 minutes. The lunar day is the time from moonrise to moonrise.

The moon's arrival every 29.5 days at the same relative position between the earth and the sun marks what is called the synodical month. The earth with its tilted axis revolves about the sun every 365 days, 5 hours and 48 minutes, yielding the year and its seasons.

The daily and annual rhythms related to the sun are associated with the changes in light and temperature.

The 24.8-hour lunar day and the 29.5-day synodical month are associated most obviously with the moondominated ocean tides and with changes in nighttime illumination.

But all four types of rhythms include changes in forces such as gravity, barometric pressure) hiBh enerBY radiation, and magnetic and electrical fields.

Considering the rhythmic daily changes in light and temperature, it is not surprising that living creatures display daily patterns in their activities.

Cockroaches, earthworms and owls are nocturnal; song-birds and butterflies are diurnal; and still other creatures are crepuscular, like the crowing cock at daybreak and the serenading frogs on a springtime evening. Many plants show daily sleep movements of their leaves and flowers.

Man himself exhibits daily rhythms in degrees of wakefulness, body temperature and blood-sugar level.

We take for granted the annual rh~thms of arowth and reproduction of animals and plants, and we

rns regulate ornlS of life

now know that the migration periods of birds and the flowering periods of plants are determined by the seasonal changes in the lengths of day and night.

In a similar fashion creatures living on the seashore exhibit a rhythmic behaviour corresponding to the lunar day. Oysters and clams open their shells for feeding only after the rising tide has covered them. Fiddler crabs and shore birds scour the beach for food exposed at ebb tide and retreat to rest at high tide. The reef heron, though living many miles inland, appears to know when low tide will occur and leaves home each day just at the proper time to take advantage of it.

Synodical monthly breeding rhythms, geared to particular portions of the year, phases of the moon, and times of solar day, are common among animals inhabiting the sea.

These rhythms assure that the eggs and sperm of a given species will be available at the same place at the same time. Each species has its own characteristic breeding time, which is often so precisely scheduled that we can accurately predict its occurrence. If, for example, we should go to the water's edge in Bermuda about an hour after sunset during a three or-

f~\if"~i\Y ]ilttri~~9f it

~\twmYrtimy f\lU

moon, we would witness within a few minutes the mating display of the Atlantic "fireworm." At that time the females swarm to the surface from their burrows in the coral rock and luminesce brilliantly until joined by the males. At the same location, just before midnight either three to four days before or two days after a new moon, the swarming of the males and females of the glassy transparent shrimp, Anchistioides, takes place.

Palolo worms of the Southwest Pacific swarm in huge numbers on the nights of the third quarters of the October and November moons, liberating their reproductive elements into the sea water just as the dawn breaks. The.breedin behaviour of a small California fish, the grunion,

a

Span

January

1962

43

is also exquisitely timed. Just after the moment of high tide, on nights from April through June, when the tides are at their monthly highest, these fish arrive at the beach in large numbers and ride the waves onto the sand. The fish quickly dig pits into which they discharge their eggs and sperm. Thus the new generation is able to develop over the period of a month without being prematurely washed out by the surf of the ordinary high-tides.

Life's Mysterious

Clocks

to be sensItIve, they commonly continue to display the same rhythms they displayed in their natural environment. The fiddler crab, for example, normally darkens by day and pales by night, runs actively at low tide and rests at high tide. When removed from the beach to laboratory isolation from light, temperature and tidal changes, the crab continues to behave in synchrony with his fellows still free on the beach. The crab somehow possesses the capacity to measure accurately and simultaneoudy both solar-day and lunar-day intervals without the stimulation of light, temperature and tidal changes.

Seeds persist in their annual sprouting cycle under similar laboratory conditions. This persistent adherence to rhythms with sun- and moon-related periods under conditions in which the organism is isolated from any obvious manifestation of these time cycles strongly suggests that an inherent clock system is probably a universal attribute of life.

Although living clocks appear to function simply and precisely in their regulation of organisms in nature, they present baffling difficulties when they are studied in the laboratory.

The inquiring biologist faces a problem comparable to that of an observer in space who tried to figure out the ~Vnatureof man's artificial clocks by observing the activities of a coastal industrial town. In the daily activity rhythm, some persons would be early

this controlled period of darkness,. however, the flies, when they emerge, will come out of their pupal cases at the same time of the day that they were exposed to the light flash. This suggests that fruit flies have operating twenty-four-hour clocks; under natural conditions the clocks of the developing flies are set to local sun time while they are still maggots and alert the flies for emergence at dawn. In much the same way, the lunar-day activity rhythms of such creatures as oysters and fiddler crabs correspond to the tidal times of their local shores.

ri56m! oth6m It1t61 ยงomlJ\

REPRODUCTIVE rhythms also occur in certain seaweeds. Dictyota, a brown alga, produces eggs and sperm on a monthly schedule. All the plants in one area may be synchronized to one phase of the moon, while those in another area will be regulated to another phase. The particular phase appears to be determined in some manner by the local tides.

Lunar reproductive rhythms are not restricted to sea dwellers. The reproductive cycle of the human female, averaging exactly the synodical month, indicates that here, too, exist both solar and lunar rhythms.

Though it might appear that such rhythms are merely the responses of organisms to rhythmic changes in light, temperature or the ocean tides, this is far from being the whole answer. For when living things, ranging from the single-celled Paramecium to flowering plants and mammals, are removed from their natural habitat and placed under conditions where no variations occur in any of the forces to which they are generally conceded 44

span

January 1962

thlJ

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diggers, would appear to have a lunarday timer. The employees of a factory with three equal shifts working around the clock, would appear to have no daily clocks. The general population would appear to have a seven-day clock reflecting no natural terrestrial period.

In studying the living clocks in nature we are confronted with a similar observational limitation; we can analyze the-clocks only by observing the rhythmic phenomena they time. We must, in other words, work from what the clock does back to the clocks themselves. This sort of inference is simply illustrated in a study of the common fruit fly.

In its natural habitat, the adult fruit fly normally emerges from its pupal case about dawn. If this process is subjected to laboratory control, with the eggs being laid and allowed to develop in continuous darkness, the young flies will emerge at any time of the day. If the maggot-larva: hatched from the eggs are subjected to even a single light flash during

(Continlled)

T

HE adaptiveness of the basic timing system may be illustrated with organisms as unlike as beans and bees. The leaves of beans, which rise and fall in a regular daily sleep rhythm when the plants are kept in a constant dim illumination, may be induced to rise momentarily from their lowered position by a brief light stimulus.

This induced behaviour will continue day after day at the same time, without further stimulus, if the plants are kept in the same environment.

Similarly, honeybees trained to come to a sugar-water feeding station at one or two arbitrarily selected times of day, will persist in this same twentyfour-hour food-seeking schedule for a few days even if the food is no longer provided.

This adaptiveness of daily rhythms is most useful when living things are

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When, for example, a person flies from California to England, he arrives in England with his physiological rhythms of waking, body temperature, blood-cell count and hormone secretion still adjusted to the local time of California. It takes at least eight or ten days for these physiological processes to adjust to the new local time.

The various processes change at different rates; time of waking shifts fast, requiring only two or three days, while other rhythms shift more slowly.

Hence there appears to be a period during which various bodily processes are shifting gears relative to one another.

Recent studies by Dr. Mary Lobban and by Dr. Janet Harker, both at Cambridge University, suggest some possible consequences of having our rhythms out of their ordinary relationships with one another. Doctor Lobban found evidence of stress in some human subjects who, during the protracted daylight of the arctic summer, Jived by watches adjusted to indicate recurrent "days" of

'unnatural lengths. Doctor Harker, working with cockroaches, discovered 'she could produce tumours by transplanting a hormone-producing neural ,element, the sub-esophageal ganglion, from animals with their running,activity rhythms set to the usual time of day into animals whose rhythmic .changes had been artificially reset (by reversing the natural light-dark .cycle) to be twelve hours slow.

It is well established that some .animals navigate by the sun, the moon or even the constellations, orienting themselves relative to these objects at an angle which changes 'systematically with the rotation of the earth. Birds or bees also alter their usual direction of orientation when their natural clocks are reset by cycles of light and darkness to indicate a different time zone. One ¡can even predict the new direction of orientation from the interval by which the timing rhythm has been Teset.

This was dramatically illustrated in a recent study by Dr. Max Renner of the University of Munich. Honeybees were trained on the East Coast of the United States to fly northwest to a feeding station at one p.m., Eastern Standard Time. The trained bees were then taken by airplane to the West Coast. The next day, in California, the bees went seeking food about ten a.m., Pacific Coast Time. They were still on Eastern Standard Time. But they adhered to their previously learned sun angle, and now with the morning sun flew off in a different direction-southwesterly. In both cases the sun was, so to speak, in their left eye.

Daily changes of both light and temperature are primarily responsible for resetting natural rhythms to local time. The twenty-four-hour rhythms in an organism's sensitivity to light and temperature facilitate this resetting process. If a plant, for example, is exposed to light during the hours of darkness (when it is sensitive to light), the plant will immediately reset its twenty-four-hour rhythm of light sensitivity. If the plant is then returned to its natural environment of uninterrupted periods of light and darkness, this adjusted rhythm will continue to be reset by a small amount each day until the plant's lightsensitive and light-insensitive periods match the appropriate periods of night and day. In a similar fashion a mouse's rhythm of light sensitivity is set so that its activity and its running occur at night.

Each species seems to utilize such characteristic sensitivity rhythms. It also seems probable that these same twenty-four-hour cycles of light and temperature responsiveness in some

way assist living creatures to measure the changing lengths of night and day and thus adapt themselves to natural annual cycles.

When some animals and plants are kept under controlled conditions of unchanging light and temperature, their daily rhythmic activities are observed to occur, in some cases, slightly earlier, in others, a little later each day. This produces activity rhythms with periods which vary from the twenty-four-hour cycle.

These latter rhythms also vary somewhat in their periods with changes in temperature and illumination and from one individual to another.

Such variations from the twenty-fourhour cycle introduce a fundamental question. Are these variations the product of poor-quality living clocks which run fast or slow? Or are the clocks themselves precise-with the apparent inaccuracies ascribable to some other cause?

We think we have the answer to why the rhythms often appear to run fast or slow under these unchanging conditions. To the organism placed in the laboratory at a constant level of light and temperature these two factors will continue to have the most impact during the sensitive phase of its twenty-four-hour cycle of responsiveness to the environment.

These two factors in effect will appear, therefore, to the organism to show a daily variation, but now the light and temperature cycles will seem to have become inverted. Thus, during the sensitive period of its cycle-which normally falls at night-it will interpret the increased effectiveness of the light and temperature as indicating daytime.

Employing the same splendidly adaptive machinery it uses in nature to reset its rhythm until the sensitive portion comes to fall in the darker, cooler nighttime, the organism keeps resetting its sensitivity rhythm a little forward, or backward, regul:u:ly each day in a futile attempt to adjust to the illusory "day-night cycles."

This simple, reasonable hypothesis, compatible with all our current knowledge, makes it probable that the living clocks are always precise in their timekeeping. The alternative interpretation-that the inaccurate rhythms persisting under controlled conditions reflect inaccuracies in living clocks-is most improbable in view of the precision of the clocks under natural conditions where such resettings would not occur.

SCIENTISTS are reluctant to credit a phenomenon for which they see no plausible explanation. As a consequence, evidence for living clocks was for a long time essentially ignored by

most biologists. Recently, as our knowledge has become more refined, the phenomenon of timed rhythms was encountered so frequently by investigators in so many areas of biology that the possession of clock systems by living things became tacitly accepted. The problem of the nature of the clock systems had then to be faced.

Man-made clocks are of two general types-those with intrinsic timing and those with extrinsic. Examples of the intrinsic type are the hourglass, the pendulum and hairspring-balance clocks. Intrinsic clocks possess independent timing capacity and are useful any time and any place. Extrinsic clocks, like the sun dial and the electric clock, have no independent timing capacity but depend upon an inflow of timing information. The sun dial depends upon the sun's shadow, the electric clock upon the sixty-cycle alternating current. Extrinsic clocks are sometimes referred to as repeaters.

The basic question concerning the clocks of living things is whether they arc intrinsic or extrinsic or whether, perhaps, they are both. This question has long been debated by students of biological rhythms.

The intrinsic-clock hypothesis has been generally favoured over the years. This seemed the simplest hypothesis to account for the persistence of behaviour of rhythms in unvarying light and temperature-especially the apparent inaccuracies and individually differing periods of the rhythms, their adaptivcness and their persistence in organisms transported long distances eastward or westward.

Frank A. Brown Jr., Morrison Professor of Biology at Northwestern University, first became interested in the phenomenon of living clocks twelve years ago. As an endocrinologist studying the actions of injected hormones on crabs and shrimps, ••We found that something beyond the influences of our ordinary laboratory conditions and procedures was affecting our animals and their reactions. Subsequently, with our study of the fluctuations with lunar and solar periods, the rhythms of life became more fascinating than our former problems."

Professor Brown was educated at Bowdoin College and at Harvard. In summer he conducts his research at the Marine Biological Laboratory, Woods Hole, Massachusetts.

Life's Mysterious The extrinsic hypothesis, on the other hand, was questioned because it demanded that living things be sensitive to still unidentified, subtle pervasive factors. Such an hypothesis was radically opposed to the universally accepted concept of "constant conditions" in the laboratory-which postulated that under controlled laboratory conditions we could truly isolate an organism from fluctuations of every factor of the environment to which the organism is sensitive.

The organism was deemed insensitive to such factors as magnetic and gravitational changes.

Sirice the rhythms persist in meticulously controlled "constant conditions," the working hypothesis of most investigators has been that the living clocks are intrinsic. The lengths of their natural periods, it was thought, are inherited and a consequence of fully independent cyclic biochemical transformations which would someday be explained solely in terms of the principles of physics and chemistry.

But every investigation based upon this assumption found the living clocks unorthodox in terms of any ordinary biochemical scheme. Though all ordinary metabolic processes are greatly speeded up or slowed down by raising or lowering temperature, respectively, the periods of the clocks seemed generally independent of temperature. Crabs, as indicated by their colour change and running habits, continue to measure accurately the periods of the day and the tides whether they are kept at 54° F. or 77° F.; dried seeds, as shown by testing samples periodically, display the same annual rhythm in their capacity to germinate whether they are stored in a freezer at _8°F. or in

an incubator at 113° F. Similarly, none of the drugs known to alter the rate or character of metabolic changes seem to interfere with the accuracy of the basic timer.

Clearly, if the timer is intrinsic, it is a most extraordinary mechanism.

But this is exactly what one would expect of any good clock. And if the experimental conditions in which these rhythms persisted were really constant for the organism, the timer had to be intrinsic. On the other hand, if it were proved that laboratory conditions hitherto presumed constant for the organisms were really not constant and that the organisms continued to receive outside rhythmic stimuli despite laboratory controls, a potential timing signal would be available for an extrinsic clock. And such an extrinsic clock could account readily for all the observed properties of the rhythms, including temperature and drug immunities, and the long rhythmic periods which are the same lengths as the geophysical ones.

IT has recently become evident that organisms, even' when hermetically isolated under so-called constant conditions, still derive information as to the geophysical rhythms from their environment. Such information must be transmitted by higWy pervasive forces hitherto ignored by biologists.

Let us briefly consider the evidence for this.

Oysters, collected in New Haven Harbour, Connecticut, were shipped to Evanston, Illinois. Kept in pans of sea water in a dark room, they continued for a time to open their shells widest when it was high tide in New Haven waters. By the end of

Clocks

two weeks the New England oysters had reset their rhythms to open their shells widest at the moon's zenith and nadir positions with reference to Evanston. The - oysters maintained thereafter this new schedule throughout the month they were observed.

The zenith and the nadir positions of the moon-the two lunar positions on opposite sides of the earth which give rise to twice-daily high tides-are the periods of the moon's maximum gravitational effects upon the atmospheric tides over Evanston; this same gravitational effect would produce high ocean tides if Evanston were a coastal city. Recently, from simultaneous studies of fiddler crabs collected from beaches with differing local tidal times, we have learned that these creatures are also able to reset their tidal rhythms of running activity to accord with lunar zenith and nadir, despite absence of any obvious cues as to these times. Obviously some subtle atmospheric fluctuation related to local lunar time is able to substitute for local ocean tides and reset the periods of maximum activity. The same factor must continuously signal the lunar periods.

Living things as different as fiddler crabs and potatoes continue indefinitely to display both solar-day and lunar-day rhythms in their metabolism while they are subject to constant conditions in a laboratory.

These two rhythms co-operate to provide both species with a synodical monthly rhythm. Plainly, the artificially isolated organisms continue to derive a wealth of infom1ation about outdoor atmospheric rhythms.

Some of the evidence available is quite fantastic.

The s~lar-day tides of the at-

mosphere are expressed in rhythms of barometric pressure. The atmospheric tide rises in the morning, reaching its highest point about ten o'clock, and then falls to its lowest in the afternoon. The daily rhythms of organisms, even when they are sealed off from such pressure changes, are somehow associated with these daily tides of the atmosphere and their regular modification by lunar influences.

Nature provided us with a ready means for discovering this relationship. The daily tides of the atmosphere in temperate latitudes are continuously distorted by large irregular, weatherassociated pressure changes. We know that both potato plants and crabs follow some outside factor reflecting the daily atmospheric tides because the daily cycles in their rate of oxygen consumption continuously reflect significantly the unpredictable distortions in the daily pressure cycles.

Since it is inconceivable that living things are provided with a detailed programme of all the erratic weather changes which are to occur while they are sealed under conditions including unvarying light, temperature, humidity and pressure, we must conclude that information reaches them continuously.

All of numerous species of animals and plants which have been studied reflect, in their metabolic processes between five and seven a.m., the amount the barometric pressure changed between two and six o'clock that same morning. Their metabolism from five to seven p.m. reflects the amount the pressure changed between two and six o'clock that same afternoon. These times are highly specific; no comparable relationships are found at any other time of day.

In both winter and summer the atmospheric tide tends to rise in the morning; at the latitude of Chicago, the time of lowest tide occurs about two p.m. during the coldest months and about seven p.m. during the warmest months, and so the afternoon pressure tends to fall during summer and rise in winter. The metabolism of potato plants, even when they are sealed off from pressure changes, conforms to this annual pressure change.

A by-product of this study has been the astonishing discovery that the late-afternoon biological activity of nearly all living things, while only remotely related to mean daily barometric pressure of the same day, is intimately related to that of the second day thereafter. These organisms seem to be "predicting" the atmosphericpressure trends. The biological explanation of the riddle is this: the afternoon pressure change which the

organism's late-afternoon metabolism reflects is itself quite inexplicably tending to predict the barometric pressure trends two days in advance.

Within the past year my associates and I have implicated magnetism as one subtle factor related to the rhythms. Terrestrial magnetism is known to fluctuate rhythmically with the solar and lunar periods. Additionally, the earth's magnetic axis, at an angle with its polar axis, wobbles as the earth rotates and produces a movement of the magnetic field in relation to the polar axes. Snails, when oriented geographically, were found to display solar- and lunar-day rhythms in their tendency to veer from a true southward path, even while in presumably unchanging conditions. Experiments with magnets further proved the snails could perceive very weak magnetic fields. In addition, the snails' response to a bar magnet showed both solar and lunar rhythms.

The snails were able also to distinguish directions of magnetic fields and, therefore, they possess a magnetic compass. The snails' perceptive system for a magnetic field behaves like two rotating "directional antennae," the rotation of one is related to the sun, the other to the moon.

For fields of equal magnetic strength, the field parallel with the snail's body was most effective when the sun or moon was above the horizon, while a field at right angles was most effective under other conditions. Hence, the magnetic receiver behaved like a living compass geared in with the living-clock system. This compass may serve as a navigational instrument.

These magnetic-field studies have introduced a subtle and pervasive geophysical factor with which biologists must now reckon. It seems highly probable that other animals will be found similarly armed with both a clock and a compass. We have, furthermore, experimental evidence suggesting that both flatworms and snails perceive changes in electrostatic fields, the fields surrounding electrically charged bodies. And, as with magnetic fields, the response seems to be regulated by the living-clock system.

The weight of all the evidence suggests that living clocks depend upon some universal-time, geophysical rhythm-one with simultaneous world-wide changes. Magnetic and electrostatic sensitivities support this theory, since these forces are known to fluctuate on a universal scale. If living things truly possess such a universal timer, they have always available what man terms Greenwich time and uses for purposes such as navigation and astronomy-a means

for pinpointing their location on the earth's surface. Interestingly, studies of bee, bird and fish navigation have proved that these creatures are acutely aware of the heavens.

Experimental evidence suggests, therefore, that life, time and space, in the range of their terrestrial dimensions, are very intimately interrelated.

It appears that the forces regulating the life processes are dependently related to their counterparts of the outside physical environment. The living organism is a diminutive oscillating system with periods paralleling those of the physical environment.

What kind of timing system did nature fit into the microscopic dimensions of single cells-a timer which could reproduce so unerringly the long natural periods?

Evidence suggests the primary timing system to be the movements of the sun, moon and earth. Nature provided means by which this timer could simultaneously serve the rhythmicalities of both living organisms and their environment. Ingeniously the timing bridge to living systems was fashioned, not in terms of such variable and biologically potent forces as light and temperature (to which organisms must respond in specifically adaptive fashions), but in terms of more stable forces demanding little or no specific adaptive response and simultaneously so pervasive that no living thing would ever normally be deprived of their influence. Only with such provisions could living clocks become the loyal servant rather than the domineering master of life.•

The art objects reproduced on these pages are from the Chase Bank Collection.

This watercolour painting is by Charles Burchfield and is called "Street Light Shining through Rain and Fog,"

Art

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In

a Bank A carvedlvood,nask of the Senufo tribe of Africa dates from the 18th Century.

by Katherine Kuh

F

ROM the East River Drive, long before one reaches Wall Street, the tower of the new Chase Manhattan Bank rises up to dominate the landscape. Those few romantic spires which rival its height seem almost medieval in comparison, for this is the first major skyscraper to be erected downtown in New York City since 1930-and the greatest. It is true that two other large modern office buildings have been started, but only after the Chase Manhattan announced its plans. On arrival at the bank, one realizes that the entire 60-storey structure with its skin of glass and anodized aluminium is a single vaulting tower set in a spacious, two and one-half acre plaza. And this makes news, for to open up the highly crowded financial district and afford its throngs of pedestrians an island of air, light and rest space is a priceless boon.

Though one area of the buildlngthe 30 lower floors which have been reserved for the bank itself-has open-

ed, the surrounding plaza still remains unfinished, pending the demolition of several neighbouring skyscrapers, a total of six eventually to go. Future plans for the plaza call for carefully designed landscaping with trees, a fountain, possibly an important modern sculpture and facilities for various kinds of outdoor exhibitions.

This imposing use of open space would be welcome anywhere in Manhattan. .

In the past, temples, tombs, churches and palaces have served as artistic monuments. Religion, death and ruling families were often responsible for these historic structures, where distinguished architecture frequently became the setting for choice works of art.

One thinks immediately of the Popes and the Medici, of Chartres, the pyramids of Egypt and Yucatan, of Fontainebleau and the Duomo of Florence, of St. Peter's and the austere Escorial in Spain, and the Moghul grandeurs of India. But today the focus has shifted. Ironically, that

very materialism which, according to popular prediction in some quarters, will cause a final downfall has in truth acted as a patron saint to U.S. culture. Factories, office buildings, banks, shopping centres-these and other industrial structures are fast becoming the outstanding architectural and artistic pivots in that country. Certainly one of the most arresting of these is the new Head Office of the Chase Manhattan Bank, if only for the thorough integration of its original conception. From its very beginning architects, designers, artists, art historians and businessmen have worked together in a co-operative venture where early over-all plans stressed several provocative new ideas.

Not the least of these ideas is emphasized by J. Walter Severinghaus of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill (architects for the building), who said recently: "To us, the most exciting aspect of this project was the fact that we could consolidate two city blocks, widen the streets 9n all four sides,

Art in a Bank

(Continued)

"Relational Painting, Tondo No. 46"

by Fritz Glarner.

create a plaza of over two and onehalf acres with a simple 60-storey tower covering less than 30 per cent of the plaza, and still have the economics compare favourably with a routine solution which would have perpetuated the narrow canyons of the financial area."

Another important innovation is the use of art (predominantly American with emphasis on contemporary paintings) throughout the bank. At first glance, this may not seem a new idea, for in recent years numerous office buildings, factories, department stores and banks in the United States have incorporated paintings and sculptures into their plans. But at the Chase Manhattan a pioneer programme is being developed, thanks to a working co-operation between the executives of the bank, the architects and a group of distinguished art experts.

Because art is being planned as an integral part of the building, to be included everywhere in offices, clerical areas, halls, visitors' rooms, dining rooms, banking areas, employees' rest rooms and lobbies, all manner of objects have been purchased. Paintings, sculpture, ceramics, primitive arts, prints, drawings and even textiles make art a living experience not alone for important executives and visitors but for every person working in the bank or using its facilities. For example, this huge organization has about 130 vice-presidents, each of whom chose what he wanted for his own office. Individual interests were taken into consideration; the specialist on Latin America selected preColumbian ceramics and a handsome early Peruvian textile while his neighbour, on the other hand, preferred the art of the North Pacific area.

Perhaps most remarkable, however, is the plan to keep the collection mobile and growing, for the bank intends from time to time to give works to museums and public institutions, replacing these gifts with other purchases by promising artists.

In addition, certain paintings and sculpture will be available for loan' the Albright Art Gallery in Buffal~ borrowed 36 pictures for a special showing held in the autumn of 1960.

There are an art director and a curator to handle loans, installations and the changing exhibitions which are projected for the employees' lounge.

Though a $500,000 fund was earmarked for art, relatively few costly works have been purchased. In order to accommodate the enormous needs of the entire bank, quantity often ta.kes precedence over single, illustnous names, but many well-known artists are included, both American and foreign. Still, the programme chiefly stresses the purchase of less expensive works by younger artists.

In a city of fantastic views, the panorama from the top floor of the building is of such stupendous scale that few man-made works of art can dare to compete. This entirely glassenclosed section with its four-sided exposure is to be occupied by an executive dining room reserved for the bank. A more romantic stretch ?f r~vers,turrets, cubes, towers, plungmg mtersections and miniature moving traffic can scarcely be conceived.

Against this bold backdrop, only the greatest works of art can hope to endure. The challenge is obvious, and the art programme at this stage is exciting and promising.

There is no doubt that this enlightened project will act as an invaluable addition to the downtown community. It is not just another handsome building with luxurious offices and interesting modern art.

It is an imaginative, daring concept, a ~odel for further public-spirited busmessmen to follow .•