SPAN: June 1966

SPAN Automation:

Bugbear or Blessing?

2

by T. George Harris

Life-Blood of the Land

by V.S.

6

Nanda

Photographer's

Choice

Ii

The Struggle fOf Leadership

by William

16

V. Sllal1llOll

"A Legend in [ndia's University

World"

30

by Carmen Kaga/

Trends in Non-Fiction

by Maurice

36

Do/bier

She Fights for the Consumer

Back Cover Front Cover The original of this painting by Nagarjunasagar dam is feeding canals which will irrigate more than Joan Mitchell hangs in the U.S. twenty lakh acres of arid land in Ambassador's residence in ew Andhra Pradesh. See page 6 for a Delhi. The artist's work is instory on India's water resources. . cluded in the collection. "Art: The cover photo is by I. D. Beri.

U.S.A.," featured on pages 21-29'

W. D. Miller. Publisher; Dean Brown, Editor; V. S. Nanda, Mg. Editor ..

Editorial Staff: Carmen Kagal, Avinash Pasricha, Nirmal K. Sharma, K. G. Gabrani. Art Staff: B. Roy Choudhury, Nand K. Katyal. Production Staff: Awtar S. Marwaha, Mammen Philip. Photographic Services: USTS Photo Lab. Published by the United States Information Service, Bahawalpur House, Sikandra Road, New Delhi-!, on behalf of the American Embassy, New Delhi. Printed by Arun K. Mehta at Vakil & Sons Pvt. Ltd., Narandas Building, Sprott Road, 18 Ballard Estate, Bombay-I.

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Above, University Grants Commission chairman Dr. D. S. Kotlzari addresses recent New Delhi conference of Indian and American scientists. From left, Dr. Hornig, U.S.A.I.D. Minister-Director Dr. John P. Lewis, Ambassador Chester Bowles, Dr. Kothari and Education Secretary Mr. P. N. Kirpal. At right, Dr. Hornig and Ambassador Bow/es call on President Radhakrishnan.

SPAN OF EVENTS IN EDUCATIONALinstitutions throughout India, hundreds of university and school instructors are currently catching up with the latest teaching techniques in biology, chemistry, physics and mathematics.

They are participants in the summer science institutes, organized by the University Grants Commission and the National Council for Education Research with the assistance of the U.S. National Science Foundation and the U.S. Agency for International Development.

Started in 1963, when four institutes were held, the programme this year covers ninety-four, most of which begin early this month and involve 4,230 Indian and 261 American teachers.

To foster greater Indo-U.S. co-operation in science and to initiate follow-up programmes for the summer institutes, a special conference was held in New Delhi recently between a nine-member team from the National Science Foundation and prominent Indian scientists. Leader of tbe U.S. team was Dr. Donald F Hornig, President Johnsol\\ Adviser on Science ar.d Technolegy. Referring to Indian science as an Indian tree, growing in Indian soil H': nurtured by Indian gardeners, Dr Hornig said, "All we h:lVe to offer is som~ expt:nence .... "

In this article, the author, T. George Harris, points out that the challenge of automation is now being successfully met by growing emphasis on education.

ASTYEAR Romie G. Seals lost his job becapse of automation but it did not defeat him. In his final week at Lockheed Aircraft Company's Van Nuys, California, plant, this thirty-five-year-old metalworker took a smoke break to talk about men, machines, jobs. He knew the facts and what to do about them.

"You're competent today, and you're obsolete tomorrow," he said.

"Our economy is changing. Automation's coming in. It would be stupid to try and stop it. We're living in a fast world. We've advanced thirty years' worth in five years."

So how can a man beat a machine, any more than the horse could beat the car? "It comes down," Seals answered, "to your ability to take in new information." He nodded at a technical manual. "I'm studying titanium now, learning everything I can about that metal."

He had become, he knew, an unknown part of a well-known statisticone of another 38,000 American men and women who every week lose their jobs because of automation. But he was also the living solution to that statistic. He was a man-sized sample of the courage and brains that carry most of the robot-displaced thousands on to better work ..They, and their children, are racing the robots, and they are winning.

Seals felt pride. Just as an old-fashioned spike-driver on the railroad had confidence in his muscles, this man had confidence in his brains. Born in St. Louis, Missouri, a Negro, he had taken in enough information over the years to move up through aerospace metals to junior engineer, at $3.27 an hour plus fringe benefits. His talent had never failed him.

Then automation caught up with him by one of its convulsive twists inside the flexible structures of the economy. Production in the unit in which Seals worked was transferred to

L

a bigger, more efficient plant 500 miles away. Seals, with gifted eleven-yearold daughter Lynda in school, did not care to move.

So he studied instead, job-hunted, did well three weeks later as an analytical chemist at a metal-plating shop.

And four months after that, using his fresh titanium know-how, he was back with Lockheed in another plant at higher pay.

Today, Seals pushes his study further out ahead of his current job. It's a natural thing to do. In the aerospace industry, each big company runs an educational department that is really a private college hidden inside the factory. Seals is taking Lockheed's cryogenics course to find out what metals do at the low temperatures out in space. Off the job, drawing the standard tuition subsidy from his company, he invests his private time towards a metallurgy degree at the University of California at Los Angeles.

Most articles and books on automation tell only about the helpless victims, and imply that we are all on the way to futility in 38,000-a-week batches. This fearful notion oozes around us. In months of research on automation application and theory, spliced into ten years of reporting in the U.S. and abroad, I have often shared the dread of landslide unemployment.

Yet it is a rank superstition that any competent economist can disprove.

You can't really get rid of it, though, until you go into many U.S. plants and offices to watch able men and women take on ever-new work as if they had done it all their lives. Only when you know that most of them are winning, and how, do you see the real reason why something can and must be done for those not yet equipped to win. Otherwise, they and their children will be left behind in a permanent submachine caste.

A worker like Romie Seals may seem an exception to any rule, even for a futuristic industry. Rubbish! Look around you. The "work force" is not a mass of inert, uneducated wage slaves clumping in and out of iron factory

gates to earn last week's groceries. The full-time U.S. worker belongs to a force such as history has not seen before. He has an average family income of $7,458 (Rs. 35,500), has savings invested in his owned home, and can rely upon unemployment compensation to help bridge him over to another job. Carmobile and competent, he belongs to an army of talent that strengthens itself on each struggle.

Men and women are taking on ever-new work as if they had done it all their lives.

Among the seventy-one million men and women who work for pay-count¡ ing coal miners and sharecroppers, too -the average formal education is that of a first-year college student. Compared to my generation, who went to work at war's end, the new job applicant has forty per cent more, and better, schooling. A mighty tide of human resources is rolling out to meet the challenge of automation.

The function of education is specific, and it is essential to the fast changes of an automated economy. The studied capacity to take in new information provides that newly essential skillskill at changing skills. "We've got to hire men who can move," says one shop-trained personnel expert, "from one speciality to another."

The strains of constant change test the older workers more than the young.

A veteran machinist at Lockheed had to hunt longer than most for new work.

"It's worse than.being an itinerant fruit picker," he said. To understand the plight of these men, we need to know the basic workings of automation.

What is it? As a tool for more efficient production, it is but the latest item in the inventory of technological improvements since the hoe. The term "automation" was coined in the 'fifties to describe new factory equipment fitted with electronic controls. In their little black boxes, the controls "feed

BLESSING?

back" information from electronic sensors that, like a machinist's fingers and eyes, check the work and make it right.

Next, bigger black boxes were built to supervise the little ones.

Some of the biggest boxes, even fullsized digital computers, now slave "on line" night and day to run continuousproduction plants that spew out chemicals, synthetic textiles, oil products and metals. These fully automated factories don't even leave many buttons for a man's thumb to push.

Going further, Chrysler, American Airlines and other firms operate networks of black boxes that pick up information "input" from many distant places. Swapping facts with each other, checking "infallible" memory banks, the robot nets can help men run vast production and distribution systems at high efficiency, low labour cost. The electrons cut into paper work that, ever rising, would otherwise choke the phone company, big banks and other giant organizations.

In short, automation produces more for less. One result: a transcontinental phone call that once cost Rs. 80.00 now costs Rs. 5.00. A refrigerator that cost the average worker 178 hours of pay in 1949 now costs him only seventy-six.

Some of the 20,000 computers in the U.S. do a variety of non-production chores to speed up economic and technical advance. The research-laboratory computer organizes information,points to new theories and products. Business computers keep track of consumergoods inventories well enough to reduce the erratic surges and cuts that once made postwar recessions so drastic. Government computers spot overall economic trends in "real time" (jargon for "fast enough to act upon"), so that public and private decisions can keep production high and steady.

If you add all such activities to your broad definition of automation, you end up talking about most ofthe causes behind the technological revolution now shaking sizable sections of U.S. industry. These causes combine to bring constant changes in many kinds of jobs and confirm a belief held by many: we are in the era of radical change.

Some thinkers panic. They fear that electronic "brains" will outsmart men.

But from recent brain research, we know that any computer's "synthetic intelligence" is crude stuff beside the

poetic waves now dancingin your skull.

The real problems arise from changes so ordinary we hardly notice. For instance, take the rise of the working woman. That girl, by sheer weight of numbers, has become the most important new labour factor of the automation era. Why? Prepared foods and squads of electronic domestic servants -at-home technology-have freed American wives from centuries of menial duty. Leaving stove and broom, the girls have been flinging themselves upon the general labour market in such numbers as to take over three out of every five new jobs.

They are job-jumping from kitchen to office. Though most become perpetual privates in the white-collar ranks, their work makes the electronic era possible. Without our twenty-five million women workers, the U.S. would now suffer from an acute labourshortage, not unemployment. With them, about half of all American families benefit from a second bread-winner and have more to invest in the home's main product-the educated child.

It is such ordinary, taken-for-granted actions, repeated in the lives of millions, that add up to the radical changes in our way of work and life.

Companies, unions and workers have built new labour-relations devices to stabilize themselves in a shifting world. Labour expert A. H. Raskin points out the labour-contract trend inspired by automation: management is moving towards an effective promise to insure many a worker a lifetime job.

But it may not be the same job for life.

Companies provide the worker with job security in return for the right to change ancient work rules, and management ends up with a profit incentive to develop the employee's potential for job-jumping.

How? The answer is hidden in a secret affair between business and education. Old-line companies, from Southern Pacific Railroad to Procter & Gamble, makers of soap, use a heady variety of programmes, from Harvard School of Business scholarships to training films, to hone employee talent. The habit spreads.

Campbell Soup runs an in-plant high school, also operates a management school, free of charge and free of advertising, for supermarket clerks.

Every year, about eight per cent of

all major-company employees go into formal job-training. At many a factory gate, you see men come early to work with lunchbox in one hand, textbook in the other.

Most have figured out the double meaning of automation. On an existing job, it cuts the number of workers and often lowers the skills required.

It's easy to punch a button, but many workers have to move on. Shock waves of changes set off by big new tools force dozens of job changes and a general increase of the demand for intellectual skills.

This trend has a built-in accelerator.

The closer you get to the technology of the future, the more clearly you see how it demands more, not less, from men. For this reason, the aerospace industry, daily dependent on new knowhow, previews the shape of things to come in other industries.

At North American Aviation, the firm that will help put a scientist on the moon, president J. L. Atwood heads an institution of higher learning. One plant looks like a corporate campus laid out around a modern cloisterand that's what it is. Inside the shops, 102,000 employees in 1964 took 1,154,000 hours of study, and in two recent years, 3,000 labourers rose to supervisory ranks.

There's more. Like a sensible corporation in any industry, North American pays tuition costs for employee study in the many colleges of California's educated economy. In 1964, 9,500 of its working scholars completed 14,000 courses, won 171 bachelor's degrees, ninety-one master's and thirteen Ph.D's. Old-style vocational courses give way to something more practical-general education.

As automation gains momentum, so does education. The more you have, the more you get. You build it up in a working career. Columbia University's Jacob Mincer measured the nation's annual investment in further education of men and women on the job. He found the outlay on the college-bred worker about as high as the national expenditure each year on the next crop still on the campus. His research indicated that, in spite of government and business subsidies, the workers themselves shoulder the main cost of study, largely through deferment of the pay they would otherwise earn on

time spent in classrooms.

The present stage of technology puts a premium on the improvement of human resources. That's why the distribution of knowledge has become American capitalism's only basic industry. Public and private, it now accounts for thirty-three per cent of the gross national product.

Searching for specific solutions to the manpower revolution, International Business Machines (IBM) has put up $5 million for study of what automation does to people. Research may overcome the intellectual community's fear of machines. "We're scaring ourselves to death," said economist Clark Kerr after he read one nail-biting forecast. "If we become obsessed with the unreal problems, we can't respond to the real ones."

The real problems come in three shapes, all forbidding. But not one of the three comes without a proven answer that can, with enough effort, be made to fit. Let's list them, then take each in turn: (1) The problem ofjull employment.

The economy has to be healthy to grow jobs faster than machines can cut them down. Right now, it also has to produce an annual bonus of job opportunities to make room for the first litter of postwar babies. They are coming of age to go to college or hunt work in half again the previous numbers. "We will see if the economy can reproduce jobs," says population expert Phil Hauser, "as fast as people reproduced people after the war."

(2) The problem of structural unAs automation strikes employment. some workers, but opens up jobs for others, we have able-bodied men without work-and work to be done that they don't know how to do. The basic answer lies in job-jumping education, and in reasonable protection for the worker who can't jump. Unions, business, government and independent institutions can put out a stronger hand to help struggling individuals.

(3) The special problems of the unemployed hard core, and the school dropouts forever recruited into it.

Long-term unemployment is coming down, but young people are still being added to the hard core. High schools have sharply raised standards to train their graduates for the new world of work. However, many poor kids, lack-

ing the family resources of the middleclass work force, don't have the background now required.

The three problems are stated above in the standard terms used by both businessmen and government officials.

These two groups of leaders, reaching a rare consensus, now share a resolve to expand economic opportunity and to help would-be workers take advantage of it.

Automation can create more jobs than it kills.

The agreement on principle began to shape up in 1963 when the late President Kennedy confronted the automation crisis. Labour leaders and some Labour Department officials believed that industry's efficient new machines had changed all the economic rules.

Business expansion, they argued, would only bring on more automation, speed up the job-kill. Kennedy rejected this dogma. In proposing the tax cut, he bet that more automation would expand the private economy fast enough to create more jobs than would be killed.

He was right. The tax cut, passed after his death, shifted the U.S. system into high gear. In the year 1964, it created 1.4 million more jobs than it lost. The gross unemployment rate, which had hit 6.7 per cent in 1961, backed down towards four per cent in 1965. In boom areas, business now recruits and trains workers once marked "unemployable."

More tax cuts will follow. To make room for more people, the economy of the 'sixties has to grow jobs half again as fast (17.2 per cent rise) as it did in the recession-racked 'fifties (12.9 per cent).

As the country got moving again in 1964, it left behind the rumble of talk about landslide unemployment. It was always a rumble without a cause. If all the new technology coming into use were about to make people obsolete, this danger would show on a simple economic indicator. The labourproductivity index compares our total output with the hours of human labour that produce it. That index has long been rising about 2.6 per cent a year because of our ever-better tools

and skills. In the recent automation surge, the index has risen about 3.5 per cent a year, not enough to justify anybody's fear that the machines are taking over. We can continue to absorb the annual increase by consuming more, working less.

So the tax cut proved that government has the fiscal and monetary tools to keep total employment high in the automation era. But the second big problem, structural unemployment, needs to be worked on in a thousand ways-and has been.

The most painful blows have hit specific groups of workers in traditional industries: coal, steel, meatpacking and docking. Years ago, in these citadels of early industrialism, social critics found men and women exploited in degrading indignity. Unions sprang up to fight for better pay and conditions. But the work hardly changed enough to exercise a man's better talents, or to equip him for moves into new fields.

Today, automation helps wipe out the man-ruining jobs of old, but it also strikes a blow at men left helpless in them. The social evils of the past deepen the troubles of the present. Only 111,000 now go down into the softcoal pits. Machines go. But no decent society can ignore the aging ex-miners left beside Appalachia's idle coal screening plants.

The big unions have been in the middle of battle to protect their members. On their bargaining table, automation has been the only serious issue for years, and it drove them to strikes in steel, rails, newspapers. In the quiet periods between strikes, however, unions and companies have upheld the U.S. tradition of trying anything that works. Examples: The West Coast's longshoremen accepted automated shiploading machines for a well-financed guarantee that they will retire in dignity on automation profits. Kaiser steelworkers won protection from automation layoff and downgrading, plus instant slices out of future economies. Unions at another company, about to walk out over automation plant closings, settled for a fund to develop techniques for aiding layoffs into new work.

Hundreds of managements, pushed by unions or fearing low morale, have perfected an ever-wider range of pro-

tections: supplemental unemployment compensation (in one-third of all labour contracts), early retirement, paidfor moves, subsidized education. Alert personnel men shifted their departments into reverse gear: instead of hiring, they placed their layoffs in jobgrowth industries.

Arthur W. Brown of Standard Oil (New Jersey) summed up the new goal for automation-hit industries. "The challenge employers face," he said, "is to develop ... a programme which will provide the work force with a stairway to other work, instead of a back door to retirement."

In other words private managementlabour policies have created a huge, flexible programme that protects millions from sudden damage, and helps others into new work or the first stages of retirement.

The total number of factory manual labour jobs, with lower demands for education, has not declined, no matter what you hear. Amid structural shifts, this total has fluctuated around twelve million for fifteen years. However, by failing to grow with the population, the regiment of manual labourers has taken a relative decline, until it now includes only nineteen per cent of all workers. The high-school dropout's difficulty: he's part of a bigger nation, but able to work only in trades that have not grown.

The factory worker's son in college is no longer a dream but a necessity.

Automation has built an ironic twist into the cliche about the factory worker's son who goes to college. That dream has become a necessity. Those who used to be bosses and boss-helpers -the technicians, managers and clerks -are now the working majority.

Since 1956, they have made up more than half the employed workers.

The plight of the young inspired the Federal poverty programme. Basically a package of education projects, it will train a few hundred thousand people stuck in the hard core. But the programme's best effect, already visible, will be to provoke private and independent groups to action.

Everywhere you go now, the work is

getting under way, often by expansion of earlier efforts. Labour unions, long suspicious of the formal education kick, have begun to try it. The United Auto Workers teach design moulding to ex-mechanics. Out in southern California, a machinists union local runs courses on tape-controlled tools. Their electronics branch put education on the bargaining table. rts members demand a new kind of forty-hour week: thirty-two hours of work and eight hours of companytaught courses. The 32/8 demand would sound silly if many members were not already spending hours in such courses.

The civil rights movement has turned decisively fmm marching to teaching. The Urban League, now four times its 1961 size, has aided more Negroes into good jobs than all Federal training programmes put together.

CORE (Congress of Racial Equality), the courageous sit-in force, has turned to the tougher task of improving the skill and confidence of job applicants.

The whole ragtaggle machinery of U.S. institutions-government, independent, private-now throws its weight against what looked not long ago like a job too big to try. As fast as a new group discovers that automation unemployment is not a form of incurable cancer, things begin to happen.

We don't yet know many of the new goods automation will offer. Right now, we have an almost unlimited appetite for better education. Computers and video tapes can relieve teachers of rote work, let them search out each pupil's gifts. The whole education business, organized like an old-fashioned factory, will have to transform itself to meet the specific new needs of young and old.

We can handle the dangers inherent in the automation revolution, if we will. And beyond it lies a prospect so startling that it shocks, and lifts, the soul. The system that we are shaping, and that is shaping us, does more than pile up an abundance of goods. We seem to be driving ourselves, at electron speed, towards a society in which robots are the slaves and man works at the difficult arts of civilization. If so, America may at last build what it promised itself 178 years ago: a nation in which each sovereign citizen pursues to the limit his human potential.

END

WATER life-blood of the land Foremost among nature's gifts to mankind, water is essential for sustenance of life and for agriculture which provides most of the world's food supply. It is an important source of power and indispensable for many processes in industry. But this precious natural resource is unevenly distributed, both in respect of location and season, and it calls for all of man's care and skill to control, conserve and harness it for his many needs. India's multi-purpose river valley projects and other irrigation schemes-including damming of monsoon-swollen streams and rivulets to carry water to neighbouring fields, as illustrated in the picture on the right-are part of a concerted, intensive effort to exploit the nation's water resources to the utmost advantage.

SOMEFOURDECADES' ago India was a major exporter of wheat and had been recognized for many years as an important supplier of foodgrains to the United Kingdom and other Western countries. Since then, however, various causes-foremost among them being the rapid growth of population and the inability of Indian agriculture to keep pace with it-have contributed to a reversal of that position.

India is now unable to feed its teeming millions without foreign aid and, when an erratic monsoon or other natural disasters adversely affect the harvest as in recent months, the food problem becomes a matter of grave concern to government and people alike.

India's national planners realize that the battle on the food front has to be fought on many sides and in many ways. Perhaps the most important single factor which can make for success in this battle is extension and improvement of irrigation facilities. In India, as elsewhere, water is one of our most valuable natural resources; it is in fact the life-blood of the land. But this precious natural resource

Valley Authority, which has provided a model for some of India's more ambitious river valley projects, is a prime example of how imaginative planning can bring fertility and prosperity to a region devastated year after year by a turbulent river. The harnessing of the waters of the Tennessee by a series of dams proved to be the first step in a process of co-ordinated long-term development. It has embraced not only large-scale irrigation and production of hydroelectric power, but also afforestation, soil conservation and promotion of agriculture and industry generally.

The river has been made navigable over a stretch of some 650 miles and carries a large amount of commercial traffic, while an important by-product is the opportunities for recreation-boating, fishing, swimming-available at many dam sites and lakes.

The Damodar Valley Corporation-which not only drew its inspiration from TVA but acquired the services of a senior TVA engineer, W. L. Voorduin, to prepare a preliminary report-has closely followed the American project in the formulation and implementation of an integrated plan of development.

Like the Tennessee, the Damodar was once known as West Bengal's 'river of sorrow,' and the damage caused by one of its floods in 1943, when the railway line was breached and communication with Calcutta was cut off, amounted to about Rs. 50 crores at current price levels.

Flood control became vitally important, and has since been largely achieved with the completion of the first phase of the project and the construction of four dams at Tilaiya, Konar, Maithon and Panchet. These dams have created a reservoir capacity of fifteen lakh acre-feet and, apart from flood control, have made it possible to provide irrigation for about ten lakh acres of land through a I550-mile long network of canals.

A chain of six power plants, with an estimated generating capacity of 9.79 lakh kilowatts, meets the needs of agriculture and industry over an area of some 9,400 square miles in West Bengal and Bihar. An alternative transport route between Calcutta and the coal-fields of West Bengal has been provided by the eighty-five-mile long left-bank-irrigation canal which is expected to carry an annual cargo traffic of about twenty lakh tons. With the availability of water and power, new industrial townships, schools, clubs, welfare and recreation centres have sprung up in many places.

The pattern of development in other parts of the country is similar. In northern India the Bhakra-Nangal project, estimated to cost over Rs. 175 crores, has already brought the benefits of irrigation to an area of about twenty-six lakh acres in Punjab and Rajasthan. The canal system it feeds will eventually irrigate some forty lakh acres and an equivalent area will get increased water supply. Harvey Slocum, well-known American dam builder, was associated with this project as consultant and supervisor over a period of eleven years.

In southern India, a notable development on a site

hallowed by history and religious tradition, is taking place at Nagarjunasagar, about ninety miles from Hyderabad.

Named after a Buddhist scholar and savant, Acharya Nagarjuna, who lived in the second century A.D. near the site, the Nagarjunasagar project will involve a total capital outlay of more than Rs. 140 crores. Of this expenditure about half is being met with U.S. assistance in the form of a loan from PL-480 funds. The first phase, including construction of a 409-foot high masonry dam, a 110square mile reservoir and two large link canals, is nearing completion. Some thirty-five lakh acres ofland in Andhra Pradesh, including twenty lakh acres of arid land, will be irrigated by these canals, and help to increase annual crop yields by fifteen lakh tons of foodgrains and 50,000 tons of sugar.

While these mighty projects are changing the face of the land and bringing nearer the day when India will attain self-sufficiency in food, the maximum, intensive effort is immediately needed to exploit present water resources and seize every opportunity of extending the area under cultivation.

Electric or diesel power operated tubewells, especially in regions where the water level is not very low, can usefully supplement other forms of irrigation, and are far more efficient than the ancient Persian wheel. Large numbers of such tubewells have been installed in the Punjab, Uttar Pradesh and Bihar and since, according to some estimates, only about a fifth of the available ground water resources have been utilized so far, there is considerable scope for an extension of this form of irrigation, especially for small farms.

Seasonal cultivation, where feasible, offers another possibility of development. An interesting example is provided by foreshore farming near the banks of the Tilaiya dam reservoir ofthe Damodar Valley Corporation. During the rains a large area ofland gets inundated by release of water from the reservoir and, when the water recedes, the land is cultivated and the crop harvested before the next inundation. Another illustration of harnessing nature's abundance during the monsoon is the building of earth dams on swollen rivulets or streams to channelize water into fields.

In Moghul and mediaeval times, tanks were used for irrigation in many parts ofIndia. Some of these old tanks have now been desilted and are being used to supplement irrigation facilities. Rice cultivation in certain districts of West Bengal has benefited from this revival of an ancient mode of irrigation, which has been facilitated by U.S. financial assistance.

Four thousand years ago, King Hammurabi of Babylon enthused over the blessings of water and said: "I brought the waters and made the desert bloom." Today we have equal reason to be grateful for this most pr~cious and abundant of nature's gifts. Used with care and skill, it can transform India again into a land of plenty and exorcise for ever the spectre of want and starvation. END

Kishor Parekh went to the United States in 1956 to study motion picture production at the University of Southern California. Today, he is a news photographer working for a daily newspaper in New Delhi. The turning point from cinematography to still photography came in 1958 when he won a contest co-sponsored by Life magazine and made a four-month photographic tour of the United States. During that tour he concentrated on photographing American faces-including the jolly farmer, below. Back home in 1961, Parekh joined the Hindustan Times as a news photographer and since then his work has been a creative influence on photo-journalism in New Delhi. A selection from Parekh's portfolio of salon and news photographs appears on the next four pages: they are the

Photographer's Choice

Comic gesture of a shoeshine man in Los Angeles, California, attracted Parekh to make this interesting study.

CREATIVE PHOTOG RAPHY is the art of portraying a mood, a mo¡ ment, an emotion, a personality or an event in the most telling manner. Knowledge of camera technique is important, but it is the sensitivity and individuality of the photographer coupled with imagination that determines how effectively he portrays his subject.

Kishor Parekh's pictures stand out for their originality of approach. In the very competitive field of news photography for the daily newspaper, Parekh often makes the same event look different and more interesting. He does this usually by shooting tight close-ups or by including some significant detail that lends atmosphere to the event.

Planning, anticipating and photographing at the right moment, often makes the unusual picture. Parekh's knowledge of light and shade plus his sense of composition make his pictures dramatic, different-and newsworthy. Parekh, who prefers a 35mm camera and available light, has recorded some memorable moods and moments in the lives of important political personalities of India. His photograph of the late Prime Minister Shastri taken at Tashkent-a silhouette photographed through a closed glass window-was widely acclaimed.

In addition to news photography, Parekh has published two pictorial books entitled India-Ancient and Modern and India Progressing.

On these two pages appear his pictures of American faces; on the followingpages are his pictures of Indian news events.

Available light of a single match was used for this picture of a California college girl when the photographer held the match with one hand and photographed with the other.

Folk music mood is

captured while guitarist and folk singer Bud Travis performs in San Francisco.

Silhouette of late Prime Minister Shastri and President Ayub Khan of Pakistan captures the tenseness of the first closed door meeting between the two leaders at Neutral Villa, Tashkent.

Moment of anxiety and curiosity is recorded in this picture of a thoughtful Mrs. Gandhi at a Congress women workers meeting in 1963. Parekh specializes in studies of faces that show emotion.

Avalanche trapped over two thousand Tibetan refugee road workers in Spiti Valley in 1962. Parekh walked many miles to record rescue operations.

/

licans had succeeded-Seth Low back in 1901 and Fiorello La Guardia in 1933. In pursuit of a non-partisan identity, Lindsay rejected all offers of help from the Republican National Committee and his party's out-of-state luminaries.

He also decided early to have at least one Democrat as a running mate. Wagner's retirement made it realistically possible to seek the support of the Liberal party, which in municipal affairs had endorsed Wagner for nearly a decade.

The Liberal party is a unique New York institution. It was formed in 1942 by a militantly anti-Communist faction which seceded from the American Labour party, a "united front" of trade unions created in 1936 to support Franklin Roosevelt without tying up with the local Democrats. For twenty-three years, two garment-industry unions-the large, powerful International'Ladies Garment Workers (ILGWU) and the small Hatters, Cap, and Millinery Workers-have provided most of the party's members and money. ILGWU president David Dubinsky has been its grand chief and Hatters president Alex Rose its principal strategist. In national politics, the Liberals have always endorsed the Democratic ticket. In State and local races, they have zigzagged depending upon the candidates and the situation.

Lindsay was endorsed for the simple reason that if the Liberals were ever to assert their independence of the Democrats, they could not hope to find a more progressive Republican.

In the House Lindsay had been a member of a small "ginger group" of younger liberal Republicans who were effectively isolated by the plodding Midwestern conservatives who dominate the House Republican membership.

His voting record was solidly progressive.

The Liberals had no severe struggle of conscience in endorsing Lindsay. On election day, they did about as well as they have in recent years. Lindsay polled 293,000 votes on the Liberal line. Since he won by only 126,000 votes. the Liberals could not be said to have elected him singlehandedly but he could not have won without them.

The Liberal party-a unique New York institution made up of two labour unions-was largely responsible for Lindsay's narrow win in the mayoral election.

Lindsay's nomination by the Liberal party led to the next ritual-the organizing of the balanced ticket. It is one of the few triumphs of the good-governmen't forces in New York that they invented the balanced ticket and managed to stick Tammany Hall with the opprobrium for it.

Tammany Hall, a society which was formed shortly after American independence, gradually acquired control of the political mechanism of the Democratic party in New York City and county. Its slates-in that organization's heyday, from the 1860's to the 1930's-were unabashedly Irish.

The bosses balanced the boroughs ano picke~ a Dutch or

English name now and then for window-dressing. But they saw no need to nominate Jews, Italians, or other lesser breeds when there were deserving Irishmen' available, as there always were. Fiorello La Guardia, that master politician, invented the ethnically balanced ticket in his first successful race for Mayor in 1933. It worked for him; it did not for Lindsay.

Within a few months it was clear that the contest was going to be much too close for Lindsay to carry anyone in with him.

A 1965 mayoral campaign might have been expected to turn on the use of television. But Bob Price made a different decision. Lindsay regards thirty-two-year-old Price, who managed all his Congressional races, as a native political genius. There were many during the recent campaign who doubted it, but there is no answer to a victory cleanly won. Opinionated, hard-working, serious, sometimes brusque, Price is the epitome of the intense, dedicated staff man needed by every major politician. Eating sandwich-jello-coffee lunches at his desk and working eighteen hours a day, Price made all the key technical decisions of Lindsay's campaign.

Rather than gambling on a blitz of television spot announcements and telethons, he invested most of the available money in 117 storefront headquarters which became the neighbourhood nuclei for the canvassing drives of thousands of Lindsay volunteers. It amounted to setting up an entire clubhouse network in three months in a city where the Republican organization, in the words of one of Price's aides, "has made a career out of losing to the Democrats.

We've got to get our own people in there and make sure the work is done." It was a triumph of organization, and it delivered the votes on election day. Whether it can serve as the organizational framework during the next four years for a Mayor who has such a narrow political base in the city is one of the big question marks of Lind~ay's future.

From June to early September, Lindsay spent his time touring the city opening these storefronts. On a typical day, he left his headquarters in the Roosevelt Hotel on schedule at 10:30 a.m. The tour stayed almost precisely on time throughout the day. By the sixth stop in mid-afternoon, it had fallen five minutes behind, which caused the staff much concern. A shortwave radio kept Lindsay's car in continuous contact with the Roosevelt and his' scheduled stops.

As the car drove through Queens, he talked about that borough, a thick slab of Long Island lying between older, apartment-house-lined BrbOklyn to the west and the bedroom towns of Long Island proper to the east. Queens, the home of the recent World's Fair and La Guardia and Kennedy Airports, has swelled in the post-World War II boom into a jumble of one- and two-storey houses, garden apartments, and sizable apartment-house developments almost uniformly middle-class. It is the only borough in which the two parties compete on equal terms. "You run into everything in Queens," Lindsay said. "Within ten

minutes there, you can be-as I have been-heckled both

by CORE and by PAT."* His research people had prepared a one-page data sheet about each neighbourhood he was to visit, its ethnIc makeup, income level, local grievances, and attitudes on issues. Lindsay kept close to these suggested topics in his five-minute, extemporaneous talks at each stop.

At each headquarters, he thanked the small shopkeepers who were its neighbours, sometimes adding, "I hope we bring you some business." Then into his local pitch: "I know something about your neighbourhood. I know you have a growing crime problem. You are worried about the lack of street lights at some corners and have had some accidents. You have a protection problem."

Then on to the need for more lights, more police, or a mention of potholes in the street or a junior high school that was overcrowded. And then the finale: "Friends, fellow New Yorkers, we have the possibility of creating something new and exciting and hopeful for New York. If you give me your trust, give me your confidence, together we can make New York the great Empire City again."

There was enthusiasm for Lindsay at the outset and enthusiasm for him at the end. He, his staff, and his volunteers never expected to lose but were never quite confident of winning. They took the underdog position and stayed with it, straining every nerve and muscle all the way.

An able research staff headed by the candidate's brother George produced position papers on a wide range of problems from narcotics to housing to transportation to recreation. However, Lindsay never made any single issue the dominant theme in the campaign. Many suspected this would be a weakness. Stevensonian liberal Democrats complained that his campaign was too much image and too little issues. But, at the end, it was clear that his real theme was not an issue but a promise-the hope of change. Like John F. Kennedy in 1960 (whom Lindsay did not hesitate to paraphrase: "Let's get this city moving again" and "As a great American who was killed while serving his government said, 'Ask not what your government can do for you, but what you can do for your government and your city' "), Lindsay offered not a new programme or a new set of answers to the old urban questions but a new perspective and a new source of energy. A stalemated, weary, cynical city decided on November 2 to give the fresh-faced new. boy a chance.

When a party holds a three-to-one majority in voter registration, the opposition cannot win an election; the incumbents have to co-operate by losing it. The hidden half of the 1965 story in New York is how the Democrats lost the city they had ruled for twenty years.

There was no smooth Democratic succession to the • PAT is Parents and Taxpayers, a local organization formed to defend the neighbourhood school against proposals, urged

by CORE (Congressof Racial Equality) and other civil-rights groups, to bus students to achieve racial balance in schools.

mayoralty because only Wagner had the political skills and the requisite assets to hold his coalition together: name, family background, personal record, and connections with the trade unions, the Liberal party, the machines, and the Reformers. A bruising primary battle for the nomination was inevitable.

The Reform clubs in Manhattan splintered, and the old-line Brooklyn organization headed by Stanley Steingut, which had been feuding with Wagner, lined up behind one of their faithful wardheelers, Wagner's ComptrollerAbraham Beame.. So did former Congressman Charles Buckley's old-line Bronx organization and Congressman Adam Clayton Powell's Harlem machine. This three-way alliance had the block captains and the political muscle to win a primary, but the generally unsavoury reputation of these kingmakers was to prove a deadweight in the race to City Hall.

Confusion in the Democratic ranks and inability to agree on a candidate contributed towards defeat in the city that the party had ruled for twenty years.

This, same triumvirate had provided the power base which easily won for Robert Kennedy the Democratic Senatorial nomination in 1964. In the mayoralty contest Kennedy seems to have been crafty in small ways, timid in the large. After Wagner withdrew he tentatively approached New York County District Attorney Frank Hogan and labour media!or Theodore Kheel as possible mayoral candidates. When each said he would run only if he could get the nomination unopP,osed, Kennedy dropped back.

Although Beame ,was clearly not of leadership calibre, Kennedy refused to join Wagner in supporting Screvane and would not ,enter a candidate of his own. Instead he' placed a man on the ticket of each of the top contenders.

"That way, whichever ticket wins, I'll have a man in City Hall to look out for my interests," Kennedy is ,said to have explained privately. ' Beame's surprising minority victory in the primary election left the Democratic party's cause in the hands of a bossy, fussy, conservative accountant. With a bookkeeper's approach to government, he had no social vision to offer the city, no inspiration to lift its morale. He could only promise to administer the status quo in an economical manner. As with Nixon in 1960, where there is no vision, the people may not perish but the candidate surely does.

The unexpected public-relations success of William F. Buckley's mayoral candidacy on the Conservative party ticket severely exposed the flanks of both candidates, but he made Beame look worse. The editor of the National Review at first seemed to be running as a lark. However, the three-week newspaper strike in September gave added importance to television, on which Buckley was a polished

Though City Hall is often called a graveyard for those with _political ambitions, the office of mayor is still a command post of enormous power and influence. performer. Since he had no expectation of winning, he could skip the artifices of campaigning (praising ethnic groups, eating ethnic foods, deploring slums and crime without offering a programme to solve them, proposing costly programmes without suggesting a tax plan to pay for them). His high-Tory style was perfect for pricking the solemnities of both candidates. Lindsay, his private amiability aside, is deadly serious about his ambitions and his public convictions. He was n~ match for Buckley in wit, but once he schooled himself to hold his temper under the needling, he was able to make broad, blunt counter-attacks.

He also exploited Buckley's reactionary proposals dealing with welfare recipients, drug addicts, and other unfortunates (most of them Negro), by playing to Jewish voters for sympathy since Jews are highly sensitized to any political theme of the Radical Right that they believe has racist undertones. All the while, the candidate of the Democratic party, Abraham Beame, was almost mute in response to Buckley's neo-McCarthyism.

At the end, he had two forlorn hopes. One was that Democratic party loyalty would carry him through. The other that Buckley's candidacy would hurt Lindsay more than himself. Neither hope was fulfilled. Eveil among the ethnic groups traditionally most loyal to the Democrats-the Negroes, Puerto Ricans, and Jews-Lindsay made sharp gains. At the same time, Buckley's appeal drew as many votes from socially conservative Democrats -(policemen, firemen, small homeowners, etc.) as from Republicans.

Lindsay's election was a severe defeat for Kennedy.

Although Kennedy professes privately to believe that the Democratic loss did not damage him personally and many observers see him in a position to "pick up the pieces," -the fact remains that when Wagner's retirement made the young Senator the dominant fig.ure in the party, the first fruits of his leadership was the hap!~ss Beame candidacy.

Despite all the easy talk about City Hall being a graveyard for those with higher political ambitions, the office of Mayor of New York is still a command post of enormous power and influence. For the Democrats to lose this command post during the first year that Kennedy became active as one of the party's movers and shakers does not speak well for his political acumen. Because he governs the city that is the nation's communications headquarters, any Mayor of New York has opportunities for publicity and for shaping public opinion surpassed only by those of the President. Lindsay is exactly the kind of alert, imaginative, telegenic politician who can be expected to exploit these 'opportunities to the limit. He is a competing attraction to

Kennedy in a way that Rockefeller, battered by fate, and Javits, who will be sixty-four in 1968, are not.

As Mayor of a huge, trouble-prone city, however, Lindsay has formidable problems to solve and his rather free-and-easy campaign promises will not make his task any easier. He has pledged himself among other things to maintain the uneconomic fifteen-cent subway fare, undertake an ambitious programme to reform narcotics addicts, spend two billion dollars on housing, and modernize and computerize the police force as well as increase its size.

There is no money in the city treasury to meet these or any other increased costs. The city is running a capital-budget deficit on public-works projects already started and had to borrow money to balance its routine expense budget in the past year. The only hope is a giant infusion of Federal funds-which the city could reasonably request, since New York, after all, was not responsible for annexing Puerto Rico and making its residents citizens. Nor was it responsible for the lack of education and mistreatment of Negroes in Alabama and Mississippi for the past hundred years.

Were it not for the influx of Puerto Ricans and Southern Negroes and the cost of trying to meet their needs, the Wagner Administration in recent years would have had budget surpluses pleasing to the most orthodox conservative.

But standing at the gateway to Federal funds is New York's Junior Senator, Robert Kennedy. Even under a Democratic Mayor he was already assuming a kind. of viceroy role as the Federal Government's Mr. Big in New York City. Thus, in one week last June-the week when Wagner decided to retire-Kennedy made the front pages three times by his actions involving city problems. On Monday, June 7, he participated in a tour of the city's parks and recreation areas, bringing Secretary of Interior Stewart Udall in from Washington. On Wednesday, he and Javits introduced with considerable fanfare a bill providing a new approach to the treatment of narcotics addicts. The next day, he opened the anti-poverty office in Harlem. If Kennedy was as active as this in the Wagner period, he is not likely to slack off during Lindsay's tenure.

He chafes at the passivity of the legislator's role and simply has to have an outlet for his executive energies and talents.

He is also drawn to the city and its agonizing problems because of his genuine sympathy and desire to help the . really unfortunate: the slum family, the retarded child, the lost young Negro, and the defeated old people. When political self-interest reinforces instinct and concern, Kennedy cannot stay still in the sanctum of the Senate.

Kennedy's intervention, coupled with the still heavy Democratic majority in the City Council, may make life hard for Maybr Lindsay. But the City of New York, which ¡has been becalmed for so long by the consensus of Wagnerism and ignored for so long by the benumbed native Republicans, can only benefit from the lively competition of these two ambitious, fiercely determined, and socially responsible young politicians.

END

ART IN THE BUSINESS WORLD

An act of faith American business has become the new Maecenas of art. And like the Roman patron of old, business is encouraging and supporting young artists, providing showplaces for their work, and fostering a greater acceptance of current art. Best of all, it is making art part of the daily environment of millions of Americans.

The paintings on this and the following pages belong to a collection brought together by S. C. Johnson and Son, Inc., a maker of wax products in the United States. Entitled "Art: U.S.A.," the l02-canvas exhibit was first shown in New York, was later seen in a dozen world capitals, and is currently on a tour of American museums.

Widely disparate in style and content, the paintings represent-according to the chairman of the Johnson Company -"a sort.of act of faith in American art." Text on page twenty-nine follows eight-page gallery of art.

"Painter's Family"

by Herbert Katzman Oil, 1961-62

"Autumn Field"

by Mark Tobey Tempera, 1957

"The Art Lover"

by Jack Levine Oil, 1962

"Reservoir"

by Robert Rauschenberg Combine-painting, 1961

"Stray Cur, Eucalyptus Grove"

by Arthur Okamura Oil,1961

"White Field V"

by Theodoros Stamos

Oil, 1961

"Silence at Sharpeville"

by Jimmy Ernst Oil, 1962

"Emerald Isle"

By Hans Hofmann Oil, 1959

In its role as art patron business is encouraging young talent, making art a part of everyday life.

' T

HE ORIGINS OF the movement towards what might be called office-museums are almost as varied as the businesses themselves, for each seemed to discover the importance of art in its own way.

Among the first to do so was It large drug manufacturing firm, the Abbott Laboratories, which about twenty-five years ago decided to further the cause of American art by buying some good paintings to reproduce on the cover of its medical magazine, What's New. So many physicians sent letters of approval that the practice was continued, until today the company has a truly fine collection of art in its ofiices.

Another company, International Business Machines (IBM), became a collector almost by chance. For the 1939 World's Fair, its president decided to exhibit two major paintings from each of the seventy-nine countries with which IBM had business relations, later making the collection available to museums on loan. It attracted such favourable attention that IBM has continued buying art and permanently has exhibits touring the country.

Some American companies first used art in their adver,tising, in company publications and trade journals. Record companies began commissioning works for illustrating phonograph record album covers, and a leading greeting card manufacturer, Hallmark, has held international competitions in a search for outstanding paintings suitable for reproduction on cards.

Although practical reasons may have prompted most of the early plunges into art, and sometimes still do, aesthetic considerations undoubtedly are the primar~ motive today.

The architect has played a major role in fostering the involvement of business in art. In fact, it was under his tutelage that businessmen first came to realize just how much the well-planned use of paintings and sculpture can add to the aesthetic quality of a building.

As one of them explained the trend: "I think that for some time businessmen have accepted the fact that modern architecture has something to offer them. We have gotten used to seeing modern architecture and modern furniture.

But it's taken rather a longer time for them to realize that these buildings require modern painting and sculpture."

The almost hygienic severity of to day's functional buildings demands a touch of warmth and beauty-something to enrich the working environment of company employees.

And because the soaring spaces in contemporary structures require boldness of colour, execution and size, most businesses-even highly conservative banks-seem to favour abstract art, some of it extremely avant-garde in character.

One of the most striking examples of an office-museum is the Chase Manhattan Bank's headquarters in New York, where hundreds of paintings, sculptures and wall hangings enliven its offices and public areas. Its collection of more than 150 paintings is one of the largest ever assembled by a

commercial firm, and it is constantly being added to by a special selection committee of leading art specialists.

But it is not only the large 'banks or the giant corporations which are now engaged in art collecting. Nowadays all, kinds of business enterprises-from food packagers to clothing stores, flour mills and furniture makers-purchase art works simply because their owners, employees and clients derive so much pleasure from them.

More recent arrivals on the scene are apartment houses, hotels and restaurants, whose lobbies and public rooms have begun blossoming into veritable art galleries.

A recent exhibit at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston demonstrated the extent to which art has made its way into the business world. Titled "Corporations Collect," it represented such varied facets of business as publishing, insurance, department stores, stockbrokers, chemical corporations and the automotive and electronic industries. The works of more than forty artists were included.

Commissioned works are sometimes related to the function of a company. Included in the exhibit were several such works: a stainless steel construction' by Jose de Rivera for the U.S. Steel Corporation; a painting by Charles Sheeler entitled "General Motors Research" illustrating the activities of that company's laboratories; and a small sculpture made of copper ingots from the Miller Company rolling mill.

An important influence in intensifying the interest in art has been Fortune, the magazine of business, which has consistently reproduced the work of outstanding artists ever since its inception in the 1930s, and has often commissioned artists to illustrate its articles. Fortune has also widely featured new developments in 'architecture, especially for business and industry.

Although art collecting has won the greatest acceptance in American business circles, a new development is the commissioning of music and sponsorship of the performing arts.

In recent months American firms have underwritten per-' formances of opera and ballet, have sponsored daily noontime concerts in American cities.

All in all, there is overwhelming evidence today that American business is taking its cultural obligations to the community seriously. And the advantages that accrue are many: young talent is encouraged; young artists are given a lay audience that will buy as well as a critical audience that will appraise; and the American public is getting to krlOw the art of its people.

As John Gordon, curator of New York's Whitney Mu- ' seum, says: "1 think it's taken. a long time for the present condition to come about, but suddenly there seems to be an understanding by business of art, of what an artist is trying to do, and how an artist can be not only decorative but useful for business. It seems to me to be good all around, to be, a situation where all are benefiting."

END

"ALEGEND IN INDIaS Dedication is common to most educators, but only few possess it in ¡the same degree as former USEFI director Olive Reddick.

A FEW YEARS ago, the United States Educational Foundation in India (USEFI) sponsored an American studies seminar for professors of Indian colleges and universities. At the end of the first day, several Indian participants came to USEFI diJ:ector Dr. Olive 1. Reddick to complain about the absence of electric fans, the quality of the food, and the fact that there were too many people to a room.

Dr.' Reddick's reply was brief. "If you were honest," she said, "you would admit that conditions here are better than where you came from."

Now, this is hardly the kind of statement to be expected from the head of a hi-national educational foundation dedicated to the promotion of IndoAmerican goodwill, understanding and all that. And it is true that in a business where euphemism is the preferred mode of speech, Dr. Reddick's direct -if not brutal-utterances were somewhat unconventional. It is also true that her remarks have hurt, affronted, and even antagonized some of the people she came in contact with.

But the feelings of these few have to be weighed against the verdict of hundreds of others whose attitude towards Olive Reddick often borders on idolatry. More important, they must he weighed against Dr. Reddick's contributions'to the Indo-American Fulbright exchange programme and to Indian education.

In the eleven years that she headed USEFI-from 1951to 1954 and again from 1957 until ,her retirement in December 1965.....:-Dr.Reddick was USEFL The two were practically synonymous-to the extent that when people talked of the Foundation they would describe it as "an extension of her personality" or refer to the vast numbers of Fulbrighters as "Olive Reddick's family." As a rule, such

florid phrases are compounded largely of exaggeration; but in this case, they penetrate the very core of truth.

When she returned from the United States in December 1962 after major surgery for arthritis and on one of the rare occasions when she let down her reserve, Dr. Reddick said to members of her staff, "All of you have families -parents, wives or husbands, and children. But for me, the Foundation is all this-my father and my husband and my children."

The devotion of Olive Reddick to her "family" was expressed in working as long as twenty hours a day, in a fanatical adherence to her basic educational principles, and in rare vision and courage in implementing educational programmes.

In 1951, taking over what was then a new programme, Dr. Reddick had to establish basic procedures and methods-the very life-lines of the programme. The United States Educational Foundation is responsible for the administration of the Fulbright educational exchange programme between the United States and India. . Since it was founded, it has enabled more than 900 American teachers, professors and scholars to visit India, and over 2,000 Indians in the same categories to teach and carryon research in America. Under Dr. Reddick's guidance, the programme-which is financed byPL-480 funds in India-grew from an annual budget of about two million rupees and a staff of three to nearly seven million rupees and a staff of fifty~three.

Apart from administration of the Fulbright programme, which is by all accounts the best-run of such pro~ grammes throughout the world,. Dr. Reddick was responsible for several special projects which have left a lasting impress on Indian education.

One of these is the series of secondary school workshops, started by USEFI in the early 'fifties, which brought together teachers from all parts of India to discuss the purpose

and philosophy of education, educa'tional psychology, curriculum content, and a host of other educational needs and problems.

Today the Government of India's Ministry of Education sponsors dozens of these workshops each year, and the Foundation is no longer engaged in this activity. After five years of the workshop project, Dr. Reddick said, "We are bowing out of this project, not because it was a failure, but because it was a success .... We feel we should move on to new challenges and opportunities. " At USEFI Dr. Reddick was responsible for the creation of short-term exchange grants for special purposes, such as enabling Indian college principals to observe the administration of American universities, and the introduction of English Tutor programmes to improve the language facility of Indian college students. She is also the moving spirit behind the American Studies Research Centre at Osmania University, Hyderabad, which awards study and research grants, conducts extensive courses in American studies and will later be a full-fledged residential research institution.

A major USEFI activity has always been the organizing of seminars for college and university professors' in American literature, history, or social and cultural institutions. "When we started," Dr. Reddick recalls, "you could hardly find any Indian professors who had taken a course in American literature or history. Today, of course, things are very different-hundreds of Indians have studied in the U.S. and about the U.S., have met Americans' and have worked with them."

One probable result of these seminars is the great growth of American studies in Indian educational institutions. Today of India's sixty-two universities, forty-three have courses in American literature and forty-one offer courses in American historymany large universities offer both.

When one stops to consider that prac-

UNIVERSITY WORLD tically none of these existed even fifteen years ago, the change is revolutionary.

Commenting on how these courses came to be instituted, Dr. Reddick says, "There was usually someone who pushed it--some Indian professor, for example, who was genuinely interested in American literature and felt it should be taught at his university.

What we did was to provide the assistance-bring American professors out to teach the subject here or send Indian teachers to the United States for training. The important point is that we were lucky enough to do things at the right time-when Indian universities were interested, when they needed this help."

Put this way, Dr. Reddick makes the seminars sound as though they were merely the result of fortuitous circumstances. They were, in fact, nothing of the sort. If the projects she initiated were so successful, it is because Olive Reddick anticipated the need for them -she knew what was required and, perhaps more important, what was feasible.

Educators in all parts of the country have been amazed at the depth and extent of Dr. Reddick's knowledge of Indian education. She has travelled all over India, subjecting each university to her probing X-ray scrutiny.

Her grasp of the Indian educational scene has earned the respect of educational authorities, who treat her with caution because they know that she knows what sne is talking about and also because she is a formidable opponent in argument. Describing her meetings with other educators, a longtime associate says, "It is a real pleasure to see her in operation. When she begins to analyse a situation, I am always amazed at the subtleties she can discern, and it is fascinating to watch the sheer application of her mind to a problem. Her arguments are invincible. And all this is done in the fewest possible words. She just sits by quietly when everyone else is talking and then in a few well-chosen words she will demolish the opposition. She is equally

effective when dealing with students, telling them why they should or should not undertake a particular project."

With students, both Indian and American, and with young people generally, Dr. Reddick had a splendid working relationship, mainly because of her interest in their problems and her willingness to spend time discussing them. Proof of the regard in which she is held by Indian students and scholars is the Olive I. Reddick Fellowship, an award instituted by Fulbright alumni in India in recognition of her dedication to the exchange programme.

The award will be made to an alumnus, or other person, for outstanding work in his field during the year.

Dealing as she has been with students for the last forty years, Dr. Reddick has some pertinent observations on the subject of Indian students in America and American students in India.

"For an Indian student in the United States," she says, "I think the greatest initial difficulty is learning how to study-how to write a paper, how to use a library, what to do when faced with an assignment. When his professor tells him to read 200 pages as his next assignment, he nearly dies, because he doesn't know how to read, how to get the main points quickly.

Some of this is due to the stress that Indian education places on memorization. But the problem of studying lasts only a few weeks, and after the first semester the student is generally all right.

"Another very real problem is that of loneliness. This of course depends on the type of person, but for the introvert, especially if he has a family, things can be really serious. There have been cases when the student has cabled the State Department or the Institute of International Education in New York to say, 'Mother desperately ill.

Please provide passage money.' When the matter was referred to USEFI here, enquiries at this end have often revealed that the mother is in robust

health. Here again, the first semester is crucial, and the problem of loneliness abates after that."

The problems of American Fulbrighters in India are somewhat different, according to Dr. Reddick. For the most part, academic work presents no difficulties-in any case, many of them are engaged in field work, interviewing and so on. They do, however, complain of bureaucratic delays or the lack of research facilities.

On the question of how Americans, both students and professors, should live in India, Dr. Reddick has waged some of her fiercest battles and met with some of her severest criticism.

"1 believe," she says, "that an American professor should lIve pretty-much like an Indian professor-like most middle class Indians, in fact. This, of course, means doing without many of the amenities to which Americans are accustomed, but I don't see why this can't be done."

A person of austere living habits herself, according to her friends, Dr. Reddick's immediate material wants are few and simple. But the question that _some'ask here is whether she is right in imposing her own Spartan standards on others not as insensitive to creature comforts.

Austerity is a word that keeps coming back to mind when one thinks of Olive Reddick, and looking around her room in a government hostel in New Delhi reinforces this impression.

Apart from the bare essentials of furniture, the only indulgence seems to be books-on the shelves, piled up on the table, and in boxes waiting to be unpacked.

Many of these are novels by Indian writers. "One of my regrets in India," she says, "is that I've always lived in cities, spending my time with educated people, English-speaking people. And because of this, I often feel I'm out of touch with the- country. So when I read fiction, I like the stories that deal with village life or the common people -stories by Mulk Raj Anand, or R. K. CONTINUED

Narayan, or a novel like Chemmeen by the greatest satisfactions in my work Pillai. I prefer these to the novels about is that it has helped build up a body sophisticated Indians-=-though I read of Americans permanently interested those too, of course." in India, and a group of Indians perHer interest in India and her identiin America." manently.interested fication with the country is a quality Surveying the Indian educational that strikes many at the outset. One scene from her forty-five years' expeUSEFI staff member said, "I really feel. rience, she observes, "The most promisthat she is more Indian than American, ing feature today, in spite of all the and the roots of this go deep down into problems and difficulties, is the tremensome sort of kinship of spirit. One dous concern, the widespread recognithing no one can deny is that she has . tion of the importance of education by the cause of Indian education at heart; people in government. I know that whenever the time came for her to take education is the first budget to be cut a decision, one could be sure she would when cuts have to be made, but still take an Indian decision." there is a vast amount of attention Olive Reddick first came to India in being given to the question of educa1921 to teach economics at Isabella tion today. What we have to do now is Thoburn College in Lucknow. "I to turn this attention to the solutions." wasn't particularly interested in India Willing as she is to talk about the at that time," she says, "but I did want problems of Indian education, o.live to teach economics abroad." This was Reddick is extremely reticent when it shortly after she obtained her B.A. comes to talking about herself. After from Ohio Wesleyan University and meeting her, one comes away with the her M.A. from Columbia University's impression that a great gulf stretches teachers college. between the public image of Olive RedShe remembers her five years at dick and the personal view granted to Isabella Thoburn with fondness. "It only a few. was an outstanding institution," she recalls, "from the point of view of both "A vast amount of attention staff and student body. In those days, is being given to Indian one could almost tell an Isabella education today. What we have Thoburn girl just by looking at her." to do now is to turn this In addition to starting the economattention to the solutions." ics department at Isabella Thoburn, she introduced the privilege of sabAmong these few are the people who batical leave, which allowed Indian have worked with her in USEFl for teachers to study abroad, and evolved eleven years, who know her iti all her a system of student government for varying moods in the office, and who the college. know her-as very few people outside Returning to the United States after the Foundation do-as a person. five years, Olive Reddick took a masWhere work was concerned, everyter's and Ph.D. degrees from Radcliffe one agrees that she was tough, deCollege, and in 1932 she joined the manding, exacting. She expected quick faculty of Hood College in Frederick, action, was ruthless in her criticism, MaryJand. While still on the faculty, and impatient of inefficiency. But her she returned to India in 1938-39 to instructions were clear, her directions teach at ISabella Thoburn. precise, so that "you always knew For several years she worked in the where you stood with her."

United States and in 1951she was back Stern as she was, she was not unapin India once again-this time as direcproachable-she could even take backtor of the newly-established educationtalk from her staff. A driver once real foundation. Except for an absence fused to do something for her, and of three years, when she went back after saying no, he went on to tell her to teach at Hood and later to work what he thought of her instructions. with the University of California's Suddenly realizing that he was overHuman Relations Area Files on India, stepping his limits, he said, "I'm sorry, she remained with 'USEFl until late Dr. Reddick, but if we argue with you last year. . this way it is because you have taught Looking back over her years with us to do so."

USEFJ, Olive Reddick says, "One of The driver's insolence had no reper-

cussions-a meas~re of Dr. Reddick's sense of fair play and justice, her absence of vindictiveness. Often when dealing with people with whom she had had differences, she would say, "I must not take a decision in this case, because I'm biased."

Dr. Reddick was always qeeply concerned with the personal lives of those she worked with. One of her senior staff members reports that it was his specific responsibility to find out what was troubling whom. At times of personal crises-death, illness, financial difficulties-she spared no effort to help.

She once stopped a USEFl sweeper and asked how many children he had.

"Six," he said, "I have six children."

"And how many more are you going to have?" she barked. "Six," he said again, not understanding the question.

At this she flew into a rage, and asked him to look for another job. She was always threatening to sack people if they had another child, because she really felt that large families and resulting indebtedness were responsible for their troubles. Later, however, the same sweeper was deeply in debt and wanted to resign so he could use his provident fund to pay off his creditors.

Again he was hauled before the presence, berated roundly-and given the money to clear his debts.

Though it is several months since she retired from USEFI, Dr. Reddick continues to live in Delhi and is still busy wit~ several Indo-U.S. educational projects. Asked when she is returning to the United States, she says, "I haven't made any plans. After all, I'm in no hurry to leave."

Though she would never put it into words, her continued presence in this country testifies to the depth of her commitment to Indian education. It is this quality that must weigh most heavily in any assessment of Olive Reddick.

And it is this quality probably that won her the award of an honorary Doctor of Laws degree from Delhi University-an honour conferred on only five women in the institution's history. At the convocation in December.

1964, Vice-Chancellor C. D. Deshmukh said, "Dr. Reddick's dedic,ation to the cause of education as a means to the betterment of human relations has become, by now, a legend in India's university world .... " END

Portrait of Dr. Reddick, right, was taken

by R. H. Khannajust before her retirement.

Rear view of 1921 Farman, owned

by Raja Man Singh of Bharatpur.

INDIA'S NEWEST TREASURES SINCE 1963, a new kind of treasure has been discovered in India: vintage cars. Now they are coming, dusty and aged, from forgotten garages across the country. Many are rare gems, their presence unknown until recently; with careful attention to authenticity, they are being restored to their original splendour.

Recently, forty-two models were entered in the third annual Vintage Car Rally in Delhi, ten more than were registered last year. Sponsored by the Statesman, the event included some of the most historic names in the automotive world: Lancia, Rolls-Royce, Bentley, MercedesBenz, Ford, Invicta, and many others. The oldest car entered this year, and the star of the rally, was a 1902 Cottereau of French manufacture, owned by the Maharaja of Patiala. Another favourite was a 1904-05Oldsmobile owned by Mr. Surinder Nath of Delhi.

Highlight of the rally was an excursion from Delhi to Sohna for a twenty-eight-mile hill climb, a rugged test of a car's stamina. All but five of the entries returned to Delhi via Faridabad, including the Cottereau which completed the seventy-eight-mile round trip with ease. And as a result of the continued interest of owners, rally officials and other enthusiasts, the AllIndia Vintage Car Club was formed at the conclusion of this year's rally.

The first to reach Sohna was J. S. Halbert's 1924 Bentley, once a great name in auto racing and five times winnerofLe Mans race in the period 1923-30.

Courtesy Statesman

I

l

This rare sixty-four-year old Cottereau, from the garage of the Maharaja of Patiala, won the Statesman Trophy for the oldest car to finish the rally.

Burmah-Shell Trophy for the best-maintained car was won by Mati Advani for 1914 Ford Model T, one of 16 million manufactured between 1910-27.

For completing the arduous hill climb without a groan, this 1924 Rolls-Royce wonfor the Maharaja of Bharatpur the trophy for the smoothest climber.

Eight Fords, one 1904-05 Oldsmobile and five Chevrolets, including this one owned by Mahavir Tyagi, formed the contingent of U.S.-made cars in the rally,

The rising interest of Americans in nonfiction reveals "a people who are on the intellectual move." This is the view expressed here by NEW YORK HERALD TRIBUNE book critic Maurice Dolbier who reviews current patterns in U.S. reading habits.

TRENDS

The themes of today's non-fiction cover almost the whole gamut of human knowledge: social criticism, economics, political and diplomatic affairs, military memoirs, science, travel and history.

on both the national and local levels and now largely accepted by both conservatives and liberals.

In the 1960's, targets have changed, but the critics are as active as ever. One of the most energetic is Vance Packard, who has won large and worried audiences, and a number of indignant rebuttals, by his fact-crammed reports on such matters as the ethics of advertising, the serio-absurd aspects of status-seeking in a democratic society, and the many new ways in which an individual's privacy may be invaded in' this technological age.

In the field of economics, one of the most widely read (and highly readable) critics of the status quo is Harvard professor John Kenneth Galbraith, who served as U.S. Ambassador to India during the Kennedy Administration, and whose reflections on the problems and the challenges of an Afjiuent Society have had their provocative effects, not only in the minds of his general readers but in those of the nation's political leadership.

In the field of science, that gentle biologist, the late Rachel Carson, raised a storm with her Silent Spring, a forceful depiction of the dangers involved in the widespread misuse of chemical pesticides, and a book that has led to much private and government action.

Throughout the past three decades, there has been a remarkable rise in the number and quality of books written by members of the Washington press corps. In earlier years, books from this quarter were often more entertaining than enlightening.

But today's Washington journalists take their profession, their prose, and their subjects with great seriousness. They feel free to investigate and criticize all areas of the national government, including those that deal with the most arcane matters of national security. The results of their investigations are freely published and widely read.

The interest of American readers in political and diplomatic affairs is fed not only by the reports of journalistic

observers, but by statesmen and government officials. President John F. Kennedy, the most literary Chief Executive since Theodore Roosevelt, began his writing career with a nonfiction best-seller while still a student at Harvard. This was a study of prewar politics in Britain called Why England Slept. Then, during his Congressional career, he produced another best-seller, Profiles In Courage, about acts of individual political bravery in American history. Most recently there has appeared a posthumous volume, A Nation of Immigrants, which calls on the Congress to keep America's doors open, on an equal basis, to the people of all countries.

Among other history-makers of our time whose books have reached a wide audience among their countrymen are former Presidents Truman and Eisenhower, with their memoirs of years in office; former Vice President Richard M. Nixon, with his deeply personal story of Six Crises and how they were met; the soldiers' stories of General Omar Bradley and Douglas MacArthur; and the candid account

by Robert Murphy of his war and postwar adventures in diplomacy, Diplomat Among Warriors.

Historical fiction, once high on American best-seller lists, has suffered a decline in popularity, but history itself is now read widely and with great enjoyment. This is in large part due to the fact that so many American historians write with a verve and vigour that outclasses the fiction-makers.

Recently, there has been a marked resurgence of interest in the first world war. This resurgence seems to have begun in England, where there was a sudden flood of books on the eve of the fiftieth anniversary of the war.

With the publication of many of those books here-among them Cyril Falls' general history of the conflict and Alastair Horne's vivid recreation ofthe carnage and courage at Verdun-the American reading public was found to share that interest.

The book that gained the largest

audience was by an American woman historian, Mrs. Barbara Tuchman.

She had written, several years ago, a short book on one of the side issues of the war, The Zimmerman Telegram.

It told in depth the story of a disastrous error by the German Foreign Office which did much to destroy neutralist attitudes in America when it came to light. This work was critically acclaimed, but its sales were small, and few could have predicted the astonishing success of Mrs. Tuchman's next book, The Guns of August, a full-scale probing account of the war's beginnings and of the opening months of battle. Its appearance was greeted with a crash of critical salutes. It was, authentically and immediately, a bestseller, and remained one for month after month, achieving a renewed advance in sales when it was made public that one of its admirers was President John F. Kennedy.

The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich. by a former radio journalist, William L. Shirer, has won the largest audience of all in recent years-not only in America but in many other countries as well. The book was a notable triumphfor Shirer, who had been warned by kind friends and supposedly knowledgeable publishers that people had had enough of Hitlerian horrors, that everything that could be said about the Third Reich had already been said, and that he should be spending his time on some more profitable project.

Shirer persisted-he had documents never before published, he had seen the rise of the Third Reich at first hand as a correspondent in Berlin, and he was passionately convinced that the whole ugly and sinister force of Nazism should be kept in the forefront of the world's memory. In its final published version, his book filled more than 1,200 pages. His publishers, even with large first printings, could not bring the price of each hardcover copy below $10. ft was at once, and has remained, a huge success-particularly in less expensive paperback edition.

A new and highly effective development in the writing of popular history invol ves concentration on a specific event in the not-too-distant pastinterviews with surviving participants (if there are any), excerpts from correspondence, and an exhaustive use of

Supermarkets have aided the paperback revolution by providing thousands of outlets for books. Here, a busy housewife interrupts her shopping to glance over new titles.

old newspaper files. The approach has been successfully employed in works

by Jim Bishop, Walter Lord and Cornelius Ryan. Mr. Bishop seems to have been the first in the field with an almost minute-by-minute account of The Day Lincoln Was Shot (followed later by a daring exploration into another area of the past: The Day Christ Died).

Mr. Lord's first work in this vein dealt with the tragic voyage of the steamship Titanic, and was called A Night to Remember. He wrote later of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour.

Mr. Ryan described in immense detail (based on information given him by officers, soldiers and civilians of the Allied and Axis countries) the opening of the Second Front in Europe on the Normandy beaches, in a book titled The Longest Day (later transformed into a fine motion picture).

These may be described as "popular" historians as opposed to "academic" historians, but the description is not satisfying because there is really little difference. America's academic historians, on the whole, write as crisply, colourfully, and in as smoothly readable a style as their journalistic contemporaries, and, in many instances, to almost as large an audience.

Among them may be listed Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., whose prize-winning The Age of Jackson has been followed by an even more ambitious chronicle of The Age of Roosevelt. As administrative assistant to the late President

Kennedy, Mr. Schlesinger was close enough to the centre of power to write a current best-seller, A Thousand Days, a study of John Kennedy in the White House. Older historians who are actively recording the contemporary scene include Allan Nevins, Henry Steele Commager and Samuel Eliot Morison.

History's companion, biography, is also heavily represented on the lists of American publishers. The chief strength of today's American biographical writing undoubtedly lies in its treatment of literary figuresparticularly English and Irish literary figures. In domain once ruled almost exclusively by British scholars, American writers have made themselves the lords of several manors.

Today, for instance, the leading authority on Byron is an American named Leslie Marchand, who has produced a definitive three-volume life of the poet. The leading authority on Thackeray is an American named Gordon Ray. The leading authority on Dickens is an American named Edgar Johnson. And the best biographical and critical study of James Joyce was written by an American named Richard EHmann. This trend seems likely to become more and more pronounced in the future, in view of the fact that many American universities are becoming storehouses for the manuscripts, correspondence, and other documentary material on English authors of the twentieth century.

It is in these larger studies of the lives and times, as well as works, of major literary figures that much of the best of modern American critical writing is to be found, rather than in works devoted to criticism alone.

There have been complaints, based on the vast number of critical works, that we are living in an Alexandrian age of criticism rather than one of imaginative creative writing.

The bulk of American criticism in the 1960's, however, is neither influential nor particularly provocative -tending to the extremes of dry and dull explication, or sneering savage infighting among small cults. The spacious and exhilarating days ofV.F. Parrington, Van Wyck Brooks and Edmund Wilson are gone. Mr. Wilson still does occasional original and humane essays ofliterary criticism which make us realize what we are missing, but today he is much more likely to write about the Dead Sea Scrolls or American Indians, or the Civil War, or the income tax.

But there are a few refreshing oases in the critical desert today, among them Norman Podhoretz, Alfred Kazin, W. H. Auden (British-born but now an American citizen) and Eric Bentley, one of the century's best drama critics.

Travel books are still popular, but they are, for the most part, no longer the "glorious adventure" or "royal road to romance" books that pleased readers in the 1920's. Many of today's accounts of other countries are strongly laden with political description and interpretation.

Belonging to this category are the many books on India by American writers-to name only a few, Selig S. Harrison's India: The Most Dangerous Decades, Ambassador's Report by Chester Bowles, Quiet Crisis in India

by John P. Lewis and the Gandhi and Nehru biographies by Louis Fischer and Vincent Sheean respectively.

Books reflect the character and the aspirations of a society. The patterns evident on the American non-fiction scene today show a people who, far from being immobilized by the conformism and complacency that some writers have described, are on the intellectual move: critical, enquiring, eager to acquire new knowledge of many kinds.

END

Interviewed recently in Delhi by Melville de Mellow of All India Radio, the first U.S. astronaut to orbit the earth made these observations on man's new frontier.

JOHN lENN onspace Most often these days we hear only about the space race. But to those of us who have worked on the programme, 1think, it is much more important than that, although we are aware oj its political implications. This is the beginning of the biggest exploration of all times and that's the most important thing, 1believe."

Whether conquest of the moon will result in any tangible benefits to humanity, 1don't think anyone knows the answer to that. Space exploration is like all research; it seems to have a way ofpaying off in future for all of mankind, more than we ever can foresee at the outset."

People often ask me if I was afraid. I had, I think, my moments of anxiety. But I don't think there was anything that I feared I could not overcome. You certainly are aware of the problems that could develop, but you just cannot let fear overcome you. And we were confident, otherwise we would not have gone ahead."

We share information we gather from space with people all over the world. President Johnson wanted some of us to go to other countries and share our experiences on a person-to-person basis. In India some of the high altitude atmospheric and space studies are being conducted in co-operation with scientists in the U.S. I am sure this activity will be increasing in future."

We have not found any particular difficulties with weightlessness as far as the human body is concerned. The body in weightlessness reacts much as people do with long bed rest after illness. It is more of a phenomenon than of a problem. Where it does affect the astronaut is when it comes to handling equipment, food and things like that. If they are loose one nearly misses them, for then they just float around in the cabin."

The first American manned lunar landing is scheduled to occur before 1970. There is no big new breakthrough, like development of a new type of metal or plastic, required for this. If all the tests go well, which they have so far, lunar landing will, hopefully, be completed by 1970."

ARBRASTREISAND crosses the stage, stopping in the centre to gaze out over the audience, her look preoccupied.

She gives a shrug and goes off.

This wordless vignette is her first entrance and exit in the musical, Funny Girl, which opened last April in London after a two-year run on New York's Broadway. In the moment's pause before she disappears as quickly as she came, she leaves an image in the eye-of a careless girl with a long nose and bones awry, wearing a lumpy brown leopard-trimmed coat and looking like the star of nothing. But there is something in her clear, elliptical gaze that is beyond resistance. It invites too much sympathy to be as aggressive as it seems. People watching it can almost hear the last few ticks before Barbra Streisand explodes.

For the two and a half hours that follow, she is all but the whole show. Funny Girl is a biographical evening about the late musical comedy star Fanny Brice, and ostensibly Barbra Streisand is re-creating her rise to fame and her ill-starred marriage to Nicky Arnstein, a gambler and underworld figure of the prohibition era. But Streisand establishes more than a well-recollected Fanny Brice. She establishes Barbra Streisand.

When she is onstage, singing, mugging, dancing, loving, shouting, wiggling, grinding, wheedling,

B

she turns the air around her into a cloud of tired ions. Her voice has all the colours, bright and subtle, that a musical play could ask for, and gradations of power too. It pushes the walls out, and it pulls them in. On-stage for III of Funny Girl's 132 minutes, her impact has been stunning.

Barbra's only previous acting experience on Broadway was a twenty-minute role as a marriage-proof secretary in I Can Get It for You Wholesale, though her plaintive song called "Miss Marmelstein" was the only bargain in an evening that was otherwise strictly retail. Some people still say "who?" when they hear her name, but she is rapidly approaching the status of super-star. She is only twenty-five, but she has sung at leading nightclubs in Las Vegas and New York. Her record albums have made her at present the world's best-selling female recording star. And her two hour-long television programmes have taken her into millions of homes. But it is one thing to rival all the popular singers in pressed plastic or on TV, and quite another to take over Broadway.

There is a convention in musical theatre called The Girl's First Song-that first number in which the heroine states who she is, what she wants, and hints at the perils that might befall her. Barbra Streisand is to some degree playing herself as well as Fanny Brice when she stands under the marquee of a theatre and declares in her first song: I'm the greatest star, I alii by far, But no one knows it.

From that moment, no one has a chance not to know it.

"J'm a great big clump of talent," she sings with conviction.

"I've got thirty-six expressions-sweet as pie to tough as leather

BARBRA STRE/SAND liTHE GRE TEST STAR.

-and that's six expressions more than all the Barrymores put together. I'm the greatest star-an American Beauty rose, with an American beauty nose."

The show she dominates has a big New York sound, full of brass and sentiment. A poor Jewish girl with limitless fight and no visible assets, claws, clowns and sings her way to the top of show biz. During Funny Girl, Streisand has eighteen costume changes and four hair styles. One moment she is hurtling through the air in a celebrational block party, and the next she is singing a moving song called "People" ("People who need people are the luckiest people in the world").

When the lights go up for intermission at Funny Girl nearly everyone dives into the programme notes to find out all about Barbra Streisand. They don't learn much. Barbra is still onstage even in the biographical notes. She writes them herself. Her lifework has been to elevate and sculpt her own archetypic personality, and no string of drab printed facts is going to get in her way. But when she talks with reporters more of herself comes through.

Born in Brooklyn, New York, her girlhood recollections are sombre. "It was pretty depressing, and I've blocked most of it out of my mind," she says. She never knew her father.

He was a schoolteacher who died of a cerebral haemorrhage in 1943 when his daughter Barbara Joan was a year old. (She hated her name and later dropped the middle a to make it more distinctive.)

As an older kid, she used to go up on the rooftop, smoke, and think about being the greatest star. "I was pretty much of a loner. I was very independent. I never needed anybody, really. I used to spend a lot of time and money in the penny arcades taking pictures of myself in those little booths. I'd experiment with different coloured make-up, tryout all kinds of different hair styles and poses."

When she was fourteen, she made her first trip out of Brooklyn-a subway ride to Manhattan to see the Broadway production of The Diary of Anne Frank. "I remember thinking that I could go up on the stage and play any role without any trouble at all," she says. She ushered in Broadway theatres during Saturday matinee and evening performances. About then, she decided that she only had six months to live. "You really appreciate life when you know you're going to die," she discloses. But before the last cough, she began making the rounds of actors' workshops.

Moving to Manhattan, she shared an apartment for a while, but then began lugging a portable cot around with her and mooching space where she could-in friends' apartments, public relations offices, studio lofts. She swept the floor at the Cherry Lane Theatre' and took acting lessons from Drama Coach Allan Miller and Eli Rill. She dyed her hair red, wore white makeup, and dressed in black tights, feathered boas and 1925 hats. Barbra has never striven to be inconspicuous.

At this point, she had no interest in her innate comic abilities. "She was furious when the other students laughed," remembers Rill. "I kept telling her she had to develop what she had and not try to be somebody else. She would make it clear that my role was to make her into a tragic muse." She had no intention of becoming a singer either, but one day she heard about a remunerative amateur contest at a little Greenwich Village nightclub called The Lion. She resoundingly defeated

a light-opera singer, another pop singer and a comedian. Almost at once she had a booking at the Bon Soir, a Village nightspot.

Her public character was beginning to get across. She made about a dozen appearances on television and in each one seemed to be straining a little harder to live up to her own axiom of eccentricity. "I scare you, don't I?" she said on a TV interview one night. ''I'm so far out I'm in." She was only trying to be different, with an old realistic fear that with her unprepossessing looks her only alternative was stenography.

The span from Bon Soir to Funny Girl took only three and a half years. But she became well enough known through Wholesale, TV shows and nightclub dates to be asked to Washington to sing for the late President Kennedy. Her opening line to the President was: "You're a doll." When he enquired politely how long she had been singing, she said: "As long as you've been President."

When Funny Girl finally opened on Broadway after much trial and error, the novice star had added to her performance a dazzling spray of gestures, inflections and a hundred small takes. She was ready to carry the show on her own.

Her intensive education in the tryouts did more than produce a star for a single show. She is the sort that comes along once in a generation. She has more than mere technical versatility. The real force of her talent comes from an individual spirit that is unique, a kind of life force that makes her even more of a personality than a performer. "She carries her own spotlight," says Funny Girl's composer Jule Styne as a simple statement of observable- fact.

Barbra is married to Elliott Gould, who was the leading man in I Can Get It for You Wholesale. He, too, comes from Brooklyn. They have been married for nearly four years. He seems to understand her better than anyone ever has, and he speaks of her quite humorously, freely and often movingly.

He saw her first at an audition for Wholesale and thought she was "the weird-o of all times." But "when I saw her next, I offered her a cigar and we had a smoke together. She was always kind of a loner. And the more I got to know her, the more I was fascinated with her. She needs to be protected.

She's a very fragile little girl."

Sure that she wanted to become a star, Barbra Streisand is now not sure that she wants to be one. "I had to go right to the top or nowhere at all," she says. "I could never be in the chorus, know what I mean? I had to be a star because my mouth is too big. I'm too whatever-I-am to end up in the middle. The exciting part has been trying to get to wherever it is I'm going. It was exciting to get kicked out of all those casting offices."

More than willing to forsake her anonymity, she has nonetheless felt the pain of its loss. People who recognize her in the street and ask for her autograph have always made her uncomfortable. Some of these people wear their hair like Barbra Streisand and display a glassy, communicant look when they see her, for she is a godhead in their most privately inarticulate reveries. Others who stop her are just impious strangers. They see her tasselled yellow blouse showing through under a South American skunk coat, her white wool slacks and dirty sneakers, her induplicable face, and they say, "Hey, you look like Barbra Streisand."

"Yeah," says Barbra, "someone else told me that."

END

... / M YFA

JI

This article has been reprinted by permission from TIME, the weekly newsmagazine; Š Time Inc. 1964.

There is widespread agreement in India on the need to bring to the farmer and villager the knowledge of new methods needed to improve rural life and productivity. There is less agreement on how this should be done. In the following letter, a state government official cogently sets forth the case for one method, the Community Development Programme.

Dear Sir: Conununity Development Programme, started in 1952, was intended to be a comprehensive programme of socio-economic change. Its basic aim was to create in rural people an aspiration for a new and better way of life. Their selfconfidence had to be developed and co-operation and initiative encouraged so that they could undertake the responsibility for carrying out their own welfare schemes. In the words of the late Prime Minister Nehru, it sought to build up the community as well as the individual and to make the latter a builder of his own village and of India ina larger sense.

Old customs, beliefs and traditions are slow to change,but inevitably as time passes it brings with it new movements, questioning of old traditions and beliefs and changed attitudes of mind.

As history shows, no fundamental change in the pattern of human lives can ever be brought about by force or coercion. It must be preceded by a change in outlook and mental attitudes which comesbest through democratic processes by trainingand educating the people. Community Development has been helping to expedite the process of change by introducing innovations through trained innovators in the form of extension personnel. These innovators may introduce the innovation themselves or act as indirect promoters of change working through people's leaders or organizations.

There is a difference between the two approaches. In the direct approach, the extension worker assumes the role of a leader himself. In this approach, people mayor may not be stimulated to action by their own self-propelling desire which must be created in them if the programme is to be a success. In such cases it is found people usually revert to old habits as soon as the extension worker assuming the role of a direct leader is transferred or leaves the community for some reason. In the indirect leadership approach, however, the extension worker leads the people by actually working behind the scenesthrough their own leaders whom he selects and stimulates to lead on the basis of their qualities and capacity to deliver the goods.

INDIA'S

Successful administration of people's progranunes requires knowledge of new innovations and their methods of application. It includes transmission of skills which should first be learnt by the extension agent, who has to initiate the process of change and popularize the innovation among people directly or through their leaders.

By experience, the agency has learnt to work with the old leadership which had deep roots in the lives of the people. In fact, it derives its strength from the status quo and, therefore, it makes persistent efforts to maintain it. Working through traditional leadership to start with is helpful in avoiding tensions and frictions between the people and the innovator. Once the people have been initiated into new methods, the innovation, if it is good, makes its own dent by bringing changes and creating a new kind of technical or social leadership which in course of time replaces traditional leadership. This is one of the greatest contributions of the present Conununity Development Programme.

The attitudinal changes due to the Conununity Development Progranune are being brought about through various methods. Of these, education and training of the people is the most important. A good example is Gorakhpur where a largescale adult education progranune for rural people has been introduced. Specially prepared textbooks contain information of value to the farmer and aim at improving his professional skill.

Similar mass-scale adult education progranunes have been undertaken with great success in Maharashtra, Gujarat and Rajasthan.

Personal contacts are important for the success of extension programmes of this nature. These are being constantly established by the Village Level Workers and the other extension workers. The more the personal contacts, the better the impact.

Use of audio-visual aids, such as cinema, radio and tape-recorders, is being conunonly made to facilitate the dissemination of knowledge.

Meetings of the institutions, statutory or voluntary, and functional groups are arranged for mass conununication and explaining new progranunes to the people. Attempts are also being made to energize Gram Panchayats, co-operatives, school teachers, Kshettra Samitis and Zila Parishads for pushing the new progranunes, and assisting the diffusion of the new knowledge.

Efforts at voluntary reform have to be supported by legislative action where necessary. Legislation has been enacted in respect of co-operative societies, Panchayats, social welfare, agricultural marketing, cattle trespassing, control of diseases and pests-to mention only a few of the subjects covered. The purpose of these legislative measures is to bring about organized change in a peaceful manner.

In every conununity there are a few people who are ready to adopt innovations and show the way to others. Extension workers are utilizing these innovators. They are also making use of youth clubs, Mahila Mandals and even religious groups to bring about a change in the attitude of the older

and more orthodox members of the conununity.

Heated discussions in Kshettra Samiti and Zila Parishad meetings on allocation of funds and resources are an indication of rising interest in community development progranunes and healthy rivalry in implementing them.

Joint seminars and meetings of farmers and extension officials are being organized. These provide opportunities for exchange of views, pooling of experiences and exploring ways and means of solving mutual problems.

As part of the programme, visits to places of economic and agricultural interest are being encouraged. These visits are also helping to change the outlook of the people. They feel that if people in other areas can bring about a change for the better, they can do likewise.

The Community Development Programme has helped to promote a sense of awareness among the people. It has also enhanced their receptivity to new ideas and removed the element of fear from their minds. They now talk with confidence. It has helped to raise their standard of living and demonstrated the value of new farm practices.

The demand for improved seeds, plant protection measures, tractors, irrigation wells, tubewells, boring of wells, pumping plants, etc., has considerably increased. The increase in demand is indeed so great that in many cases it is beyond government's resources to meet it. While a few years ago government had to persuade and coax the farmers to accept fertilizers, seeds and plant protection measures, now the farmers are constantly asking government officials to help them in obtaining these facilities.

The demand for electricity is growing too. As soon as electricity reaches a village, it changes the daily routine of the people. They wish to discard the old Persian wheel for a small, electrically-operated tubewell. There are now more than 14,000 applications for tubewells and pumping sets pendiag with the Block Development Officers.

It is true that inadequate training of staff and supervision of the Conununity Development Progranune by those who have no personal stake in it, have been serious handicaps to its success. But whatever may be the shortcomings of the progranune, it cannot be denied that it has brought about a great change in the attitude of the people.

A villager or a farmer today is not socially, economically, or culturally the villager of the past.

Each year sees the villager changing, giving up old attitudes and ever more \'I'illingto try new experiments. He wants finer foodgrains and better clothes. He demands more roads, culverts, tubewells, hospitals and a better life generally. Is this not a new upsurge and a sign of attitudinal change in the people? A good deal of the credit for this change should be given to the Community Development Programme.

Deputy Development

Commissioner ( Agriculture).

Uttar Pradesh.

/

Insupermarket, left, shopping list in hand, Mrs. Peterson closely examines produce to check quality. The young shopper at right confides to Mrs. Peterson that of all vegetables he likes only one: radishes.

Hissecret brings hearty laughsfrom both.

She fights for the consumer As Special Presidential Assistant for Consumer Affairs, Mrs. Esther Peterson has a major role in promoting fair marketing practices and guiding the consumer. of the consumer will be "loud, clear, uncompromising, and effective." So promised President Lyndon B. Johnson in 1964 when he named Mrs. Esther Peterson to be his Special Assistant for Consumer Affairs while continuing in her post as Assistant Secretary of Labour.

The energetic, outspoken advocate of consumer protection fulfils that pledge by seeking to eliminate merchandising irritants such as misleading labelling or concealed interest charges. Her methods include persuading businessmen voluntarily to adopt better practices, co-ordinating work of

THE VOICE

other agencies dealing with similar problems and recommending corrective legislation.

Esther Peterson, fifty-nine, devotes much time to staging conferences for business executives advocating fair dealing and to teaching intelligent shopping habits to homemakers. She is especially pleased with her achievements among low-income groups, a key target of her consumer education programme. She was a member of the National Consumers League for thirty years, a director for fifteen.

Her official duties often are combined with domestic responsibilities. Family shopping trips give her an opportunity to spot-check retail stores.

She may examine clothing markings or compare food prices with quantities, occasionally with a slide rule to measure values.

Never idle, not even in a plane, Mrs. Peterson mends a son's jacket while listening to an official.

Her duties as Assistant Secretary of Labour and Special Assistant for Consumer Affairs involve a good deal 01' tmvelling around the country.

Mrs. Peterson holds the attention of President Lyndon Johnson, Secretary of State Dean Rusk and others as she describes some consumer complaints to the members of the Cabinet and suggests corrective legislation or other appropriate measures.

Wherevershegoes, she tries to stimulate consumers' interest in intelligent buying and encourages them to ask questions. Above, she exchanges views with a shopperon afrequently discussed problem: whether attractive packing is a cloak for poor quality.

She finds most sellers co-operative and her helpful criticism has won her many friends in industry.

Below, afier tour of the food processing plant appearing in the background, she sholVs interest in a soyabean field. She grew up in rural Utah.

Family shopping trips give her the chance to spotcheck products and prices. As the family discovers at Sunday dinner, smart shopping has many advantages. Noodles, being served to her husband, substitute for potatoes which were up in cost that week.

Keenly interested in improving the working conditions of women and their general welfare, Mrs. Peterson asks some perceptive questions on women's job equality as she makes a trip through a plant where chocolate, coconut, and rice are packed.

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Long interested in col/sumer education and protection, Mrs. Peterson's present official position gives her a unique opportunity to achieve her many objectives. A large incoming lIIai! and numerous telephone calls are part of her every-day rOl/tine.

L August, Rue Daguerre by Joan Mitchell, Oil painting, 1957.