Volume 6 - Issue 2

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Volume six, number two December 14, 1972

New Haven has a hockey team: the Nighthawks, on page 6.

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Volume six, number two December 14, 1972 12

Contents 2

Comment: Joseph Brodsky

3

"Yes, Virginia, you little bitch, there is a Hollywood!"

6

life with the Nighthawks: "An interesting experience."

8

The most hated man in New Mexico; the most misunderstood man in New Haven.

10 Lucas N ___ : A Confession

12 The Groundlings 11 Letters

Comment Joseph Brodsky Russians and Slavophiles greet each other, radiant, speaking quickly. It is a very spe-

cial night for them. Joseph Brodsky, emigre poet, walks to the stage at the Law School Auditorium. He sits, smoking, looking into the audience; strong, fresh, his hands hiding in the front pockets of his corduroy jacket. Whim-lead Americans and students fumbling through translations may miss the subtleties of the verse. But ultimately they will share in the poet. He will expel the words from his mouth, pounding the rhythm, forging with the sway of his body the universal themes.

And tonight he will lay claim to an audience and a literary tradition far beyond the land severed from him.

The poet commands form but remains anti-formalist, fighting shallow gamesmanship of stanzaic and metrical virtuosity.

The order, rather than constraining, serves to create freedom, and to promote the personal vision that grounds the boldest abstraction. There is a sweeping quality to the lines---staccato rhythm yet enjambment, traditional meter yet fresh syntax.

Brodsky stanus the embodiment of the Russian tradition, but one who has stepped beyond his contemporaries: Who has influenced you? "Baratynslcy, Tyutchev, Tsvetayeva, and of course Derzhavin." (an

eighteenth century fore bearer none of his contemporaries would even include on the list) Brodsky's themes--man, his culture, mortality--are timeless and nationless.

Long before this night, while still in his homeland, Brodsky embraced the English language and poetic tradition. He has said that here lies the greatest achievement in the world of poetry, and has long been under its influence. Appropriately, Brodsky chose to recite first, Verses on the Death ofT. S. Eliot, in which he parallels Auden's poem in memory ofW. B. Yeats.

Joel Krieger The New Journal is published by the New Journal at Yale, Inc., 3432 Yale Station, New Haven , Conn. 06520, and is printed at Trumbull Printing Co. in Trumbull, Conn. Published tri-weekly during the academic year, and distributed free to the Yale community. For all others, subscriptions are $5.00 per year. Copyright © 1972 by the New Journal at Yale, Inc., a non-profit corporation.

Third class postage paid in New Haven, Connecticut.

Volume six, number two Editors: Ronald Roel Joel Krieger Associate Editor: Gary Friedman Photography Editor: James Karageorge Design: John Kane Art Director: Susan Warre·n Production: Nancy Finlayson Roger Sametz Business Manager: Brian Raub Contributing Editors: George Kannar Jonathan Marks Steven Weisman Daniel Yergin Publisher: Stuart Rohrer

Verses on the Death ofT. S. Eliot I

II

III

He died at the start of the year, in January.

His front door flinched in frost by the streetlamp.

There was no time for nature to display the splendors of her choreography.

Black windowpanes shrank mutely in the snow.

The cold's town-crier stood beneath the light.

At crossings puddles stiffened into ice.

He latched his door on the thin chain of years.

Where are you, Magi, who read men's souls?

Come now and hold his halo high for him.

Two mournful figures gaze upon the ground.

They sing. How very similar their songs!

Are they then maidens? One cannot be sure: pain and not passion has defined their sex.

One seems an Adam, turning half away, but, judging by his flow of hair, an Eve ...

Apollo, fling your garland down, Let it be the poet's crown, sign of immortality, all there is where mortals be.

The days he leaves to us will not declare a bankruptcy of Muses. Poetry is orphaned, yet it breeds within the glass of lonely days, each echoing each, that swim to distance. It will splash against the eye, sink into lymph, like some Aeolian nymph, a narcissistic friend. But in the rhyme of years the voice of poetry stands plain.

America, where he was born and raised, and England, where he died - they both incline their drowsy faces as they stand, dejectedly, on either side of his enormous grave.

And ships of cloud swim slowly heavenward.

With neither grimace nor maliciousness death chooses from its bulging catalogue the poet, not his words, however strong, but just- unfailingly - the poet's self.

It has no use for thickets or for fields or seas in their high, bright magnificence.

Death is a prodigal, it piles a horde of hearts upon a wisp of time.

Used Christmas trees had flared in vacant lots, and broken baubles had been broomed away.

Winged angels nestled warmly on their shelves.

A Catholic, he lived till Christmas Day. But, as the sea, whose tide has climbed and roared, slamming the seawall, draws its warring waves down and away, so he, in haste, withdrew from his own high and solemn victory.

It was not God, but only time, mere Time that called him. The young tribe of giant waves will bear the burden of his flight until it strikes the far edge of its flowering fringe, to bid a slow farewell, breaking against the limit of the earth. Exuberant in strength,-it laughs, a January gulf in that dry land of days where we remain.

But each grave is the limit of the earth.

Forests here will not forget voice of lyre and rush of feet.

Only what remains alive will deserve their memories.

Hill and dale will honor him.

Aeolus will guard his fame.

Blades of grass his name will hold, just as Horace had foretold.

Thomas Stearns, don't dread the sheep, or the reaper's deadly sweep.

If you're not recalled by stone, puffball drift will make you known.

Thus it is that love takes flight.

Once for all. Into the night.

Cutting through all words and cries, seen no more, and yet alive.

You have gone where others are.

We, in envy of your star, call that vast and hidden room, thoughtlessly, "the realm of gloom." . Wood and field will not forget.

All that lives will know you yet as the body holds in mind lost caress of lips and arms.

Verses appears by permission of Mr. Brodsky. The English translation by George L. Kline will appear in 1973 in the Brodsky volume of the Penguin series of Modern European poets.

•

"Yes, Virginia, you little bitch, there is a Hollywood."

by Doug McKinney

Not only was it in the New York Film Festival, but the opening of Heat was an event! Sylvia was, of course, there, and Joe (migod! in a suit!), and Paul, and a host of glistening New York (nee Little Hollywood) Harry-everyone-will-be-there cinema-goers. (note: "film" is where you fmd it; "cinema" is for people who are des-perate-ly trying to learn Bertolucci's name). No one is sure if Andy was there or not.

They even had a special panel discussion after the screening. Otto Preminger, charter member of the Stanley Kramer Cub for film-makers who never got a hot one but make just enough each time to bankroll the next one, properly blew it by initially lauding Sylvia: "Yell, I tink Vera Miles iss excellent in zis pikture." But no one could blame Otto particularly, for

after all, just what was the Factory doing at the Festival?

also starring Joe Dallasandro, and including Holly Woodlawn and the girl-withthe-olive-oil-complexion, Jane Forth. AlWell, Virginia, once upon a time ... though it was funny and by some estimations worth seeing, Trash was a moderate Lap dissolve (or, for those who still haven commercial success. New York was treathaven't read Ed Pincus' Guide to Filmed to a massive poster publicity campaign which included stenciling the fJ.lm's title making, those wavy lines that used to in "the streets, on the curbs, and cheekily come on the screen when somebody was in the gutters. Whether the street advertigoing to have a dream, a flashback, or sing was responsible or not (one may both): Paul Morrissey worked in a number of assume that it helped, as many New Yorkodd jobs before turning to film. After four ers have their heads in that direction anyyears of independently made shorts (note: way), the film received enough box-office "Independently made" covers a multitude and critical attention that no one could deny that the underground had "arrived." of film-financing routes, a euphemism for anything between starvation and being In many ways, Heat is simply the next step toward this recognition. Not only hired to make a travelogue of the Inthat, the fllms are getting better. dian Neck Mills textile plant), he became a member of Andy Warhol's Factory , an Now look, Virginia, pay attention ... "old-fashioned Hollywood" studio based in a lower Manhattan warehouse.

Heat is a semi-soft core delight. (note: Morrissey served an apprentice"Hard-core" and "Soft-core" are terms ship with Warhol on films including My Hustler, Loves used to describe different types of pornoof Ondine, and Lonegraphy, obscenity, vulgarity, fun, your some Cowboys, and was choice. Simply stated, "hard core" refers fmally given free rein to films that "deliver"-that is, no simwith Flesh. Whether ulation, the Real Thing, Deep Throat, Morrissey became diDaddy's 8mm workshop treasure chest rector or Andy just of the 1956 office Christmas party. "Softbecame a producer core" means cheating, somewhere. One of the problems of the film underground's is irrelevant; at any emergence in the past was the lack of rate, the last film Andy did any this distinction among "art" fJ.lms. For "work" on was L a- example, many of Warhol's fllrns do not "deliver" in a hard-core sense, nor were mour in 1970. they meant to; but the general reputaFlesh generated an appropriate and tion for years- remember being forbidden well-deserved stir in un- to see La Dolce Vita?- was otherwise ..

Simply stated, "soft-core" refers to anyderground circles, and even received some notices thing Judith Crist wouldn't be caught dead seeing. "Hard-core" refers ro anyabove-ground (note: "underground" is a slop- thing Judith Crist would only be caught dead seeing.

PY but commonly used Morrissey: We had an idea to do The term much likP. "experiBlue Angel, but with the roles reversed, mental." It includes avantgarde before the New Wave, you know, Joe in the Marlene Dietrich part, but when we got to L.A., we thought anything non-commercial in nature, usually films with some thought it might be Death in Venice, with the hotel now a motel, or maybe Grand intelligence behind them, true Hotel, but it. finally turned out to be Sunexperiments with the nature of the meset Boulevard. dium, too often devoid of a sense of huJoey Davis, fading ex-child star, is mor, not necessarily entertaining and often boring, often failing but still trying, looking for a break, residing in a run-downanything rentable from the Filmmakers' but-still-pastel-colored-motel (after first checking out the ruins of the old Fox lot Co-op, anything written or shot by Jonas Mekas, and in France ever- on, you bet, Sunset Boulevard), where he meets Jessica, a young mother who thinks ything by Jerry Lewis. she's a Lesbian, and he is soon introduced "Above-ground" refers to anything reviewed to Jessica's mother, Sally. Sally is also a fading actress, doing commercials. She

by Wanda Hale).

This was fol- falls for young, muscular Joey, and he, seeing an opportunity for career advancelowed by Trash, ment, accepts. He moves into her 36-room mansion, but loses what could have been a break in his career when the producers Sally introduces him to start searching for more "Elliott Hoffmarm" types. Meanwhile, Jessica is after Joey and a few other divertissements, but Joey gives up on the whole thing and walks out. Sally goes berserk and vainly tries to shoot him.

End titles. Not exactly a remake of Sunset Boulevard, but it's in there enough to be significant.

The best thing about Heat , and the thing thing that makes it work, is that the Technique/style Morrissey has been using all along has fmally flowered. Not only has he assembled actors that can improvise well, but his editing sense has developed to the point where a true wit emerges through the comic gems he chooses to in-

Volume six, number two !December 14, 197214

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elude in the film. Granted, there is no script, therefore the "jokes" in the dialogue belong to the actors, but the ordering and structuring of those lines belong to Morrissey. As in Flesh and Trash, the camera is usually set up in one position, the actors are given an idea of what the scene is about, and they play it. The camer:a roams a bit, but essentially stays in one area. In Heat however, Morrissey has improved his skill by cutting away or stopping the camera completely until something starts to happen again. True, the camera did not simply roll on in Flesh and Trash, but the results were not nearly so good as they are in Heat. In addition, he edits scenes in several instances, going from a medium shot to a close-up and back. This alone isn't much, unless you keep in mind that scenes were stopped, or that (improvised} dialogue went on between camera set-ups; but the editing keeps the fJlm flowing smoothly within these cuts, as if nothing is missing. (The ftlm had a 5-1 ratio, footage shot to footage used.) And, he knows how to end a scene, where the end of a joke is, how long a reaction shot should be. While the film stock has a recognizable graininess tu it, the synch sound quality is also much improved over the two previosu ftlms.

Mo"issey: The typewritten movie is over. I don't use a script, I keep it all in my head. (D.W. Griffith did the same thing.) The common conception is that we give everyone drugs and wait for something to happen, but I've never tried that, and I don't think it would work. I just set up a situation, give as much of an idea as I can without telling the actors anything, and leave the camera on them.

Films don't use actors anymore; actors should do more. We sort of invented this improvisation technique, and it's had a long development.

A major share of the credit for the success and spice of Heat must go to the actors. As the story goes, Sylvia Miles went to enough parties and simply hung around long enough to get herself a part in the film. Fortunately so, for she is a major attraction. From the moment she appears, she is perfect: the aggressive waddle, big sunglasses, too-often-workedover blonde hair, the low-cut pants-dress revealing a once great figure gone slightly sagging but still appealing- the fading actress who is living on alimony, the leftovers of her career, and the generous California sun. The finishing touches are her magnificent eyes, with which she can say more than two pages of description, and her hu&)<y, lots-of-booze and histrionic screaming-in-the-past voice. She is electric whenever she is on. Her reaction looks are some of the best moments in the ftlm, as when she is informed by the motel owner that she is not the only one Joey has been seeing: her expression goes from polite, disinterested superiority to seething internal frustration and rage. And she has many good lines of her own, including her confrontations with her flippedout daughter Jessica. As early as it is in the film, her exclamation, "This is Hollywood, darling!" is a case of supreme comic understatement. Then she goes on, as the frustrated (albeit neglecting and confused} mother of a weirdo teenager to tell Jessica, "My dear, you are not a Lesbian; it's just a phase, you only think you are." Later , when Jessica is after Joey, it comes back: "She can't even make a

good dyke!" As grotesque as it seems, is Judith Crist talking about Goodbye, Sylvia/Sally extracts a measure of sympa- Columbus), and Trash was about impothy from the audience. One has the feeltence, Heat is about masturbation (all ing that she is not totally responsible for sorts) and Hollywood, or so Morrissey the situation she's in, that she simply does describes the genealogy. But he is willing not know what's happening or how to to go further. Heat is also about family deal with it. Finally, the last meaningful problems, the American family breaking shot of the ftlm is just her eyes, after she up, the rejection of Jessica's baby (which tries to shoot Joey. We hear one last, she carries in a shopping bag), but that in "shit," and in that close-up, see all the spite of all this, the characters have redeempent-up consternation and exasperation ing qualities, elements of sympathy. May~ built up by the rest of the fllm.

If there are realistic commentaries in Heat , Jessica, ''played" by Andrea Feldman, they are allegorical. defies adequate description. "That's just More important however, is the reher natural voice, incredible." says Morlation of the film to reality in its own rissey. Whatever, her delivery is amazing, microcosm. Morrissey has professed many as exemplified by a hysterical crying jag times a love of the old Hollywood, its star which ends (when she realizes that it's not system, and the way films were often congetting the desired effect) with an off-cam- structed for a particular star. {'In the old era "Fuck-off!" that punctuates the scene days, the studio would say, 'We have a Debbeautifully. bie Reynolds, Jet's use her!'; now they never Joe Dallesandro as Joey is the straightthink of a~t?,rs first, they have a story and est one of the bunch. His acting style, gen- ~ey ~ast It. ) In the same ~ay t~at techerally characterized by a lethargic lack of rucalimpro-..:ef!lents and choices m Heat "technique," is fitting, but even he can "act" (such a~ av~ndmÂĽ a front_al nude shot of when the camera/script demands. Worthy Joey~ give 1t a slightly slicker, more comof mention are Pat Ast the motel owner merczallook than Flesh and Trash, who, while the only on'e to affect an ac~nt, Morrissey and Co. are preserving or trying is at once thoroughly gross and ridiculously to resurrect a part of the old Hollywood, funny , and another kid who, as Morrissey "legendized" and a~ap~ed ~o taste. The explains "wanted to be in the film so much press hand-outs are mdicahve: but alw;ys kept talking and talking; we said "Sylvia Miles... has exploded upon yeah, but you can't say a word." Result: he the Manhattan social scene with a passion plays a deaf mute dressed as a hip male Shir- that evokes memories of Hollywood's goldley Temple who is constantly masturbating. en era ... As much an actress as a Theater One might say that he is the emcee, the star, Miss Miles has devoted her entire life stage manager, the narrator, who serves to to perfecting her performing art... when remind us what this Hollywood scene is all she is not displaying or refining her craft, about.

Sylvia is attending a New York premiere or If Flesh was about nakedness (note: party or, in her quieter moments, playing.,_ "Nakedness" is nude shots of Joe Dallechess or rapping with friends. At present sandra after the frontal view; "nudity" she is unmarried, but she can be seen reg-

Volume six, number two [December 14, 197215

ularly with her darkly handsome beau known only as Rudolph."

And remember the R olling Stone inside cover picture of Sylvia and Dylan at the Stones' party? Ah, just like the stars in the good old days ... â&#x20AC;˘

1

Doug McKinney, writer and folksinger, is director of the Yale Law School Fifm Society.

The New Journal needs people to work on all phases of magazine production.

We need people interested in writing, illustrating, doing layout work, editing, and researching. We need people to work out distribution arrangements and to sell advertising. (Advertising sales are commisinable.)

Call432 0397 or 432 0445.

Thank you.

eNewJ o urnaI

Joe McAndrews

~LPINE

GJIAUS of Cheshire

The New Haven Nighthawks: "an interesting experience."

by Roger Cohn

Four thousand hockey fans inside the New Haven Coliseum await the start of the game. Some chat quietly. Others read the latest edition of "Hockey News." At one corner of the rink, "Dave Perry and the Rock in' Chair Band" pound out a brassy rock tune Chicago style.

Suddenly the music changes to something off the soundtrack of Shaft. A door swings open along the sideboards. The Nighthawks skate out in their bright blue and white uniforms. The players look young. Long hair hangs over their ears or juts out beneath their helmets.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," booms the public address announcer. "Here are the New Haven Nighthawks ...Come on, Nighthawks. Let's Fly!" Who are the Nighthawks? You may have seen some Nighthawk bumper stickers and woolen beanies around town this fall. These have nothing to do with the ecology movement. They refer to the American Hockey League team that just began its first season in the multi-million dollar Veteran Memorial Coliseum.

New Haven hockey fans have supported a professional club for more than forty-five years. The Eagles of the old Canadian-American League brought hockey here in 1926. A decade later they became one of the pioneer teams of the American League, and the Eagles stayed for almost twenty years.

When Mayor Bart Guida decided to build a new arena, he hoped he could attract big-time professional sports to New Haven. But neither the major basketball leagues nor hockey leagues wanted to place a franchise in a small city so near the big sports markets of New York and Boston. Finally the American Hockey League agreed to grant a minor league team to a group of New Haven businessmen, and the Nighthawks were born.

Most New Havenites associate minor league hockey with the rugged New Haven Blades of the Eastern League who used to play at the dreary, decaying New Haven Arena. The old Blades with their brawling style of hockey enjoyed great popularity. Blades' fans sat on hard , wooden Arena benches amid peanut shells and crushed beer cups. They expected a brawl during the course of a game , either on the ice or in the stands, and they usually got one. But this year the Blades have been forced to move to Hartford to make way for the Nighthawks.

The fans at the new Coliseum differ from the old crowds that used to pack

the Arena. In the red, white, and blue cushioned seats, you now see businessmen in three-piece suits and many women and children.

Allan Giarelli, a men's hair stylist from East Haven, has season tickets to Nighthawk games for his twelve-year-old son and himself. "We like hockey and we like the Coliseum," Giarelli said as he arrived for a recent game against the Tidewater Wings. He wore a flower-design shirt and tan, two-tone shoes. "We haven't missed a home game yet. I just wish they'd start winning some.''

The Nighthawks have been losing, but they have developed a core of dedicated

Nineteen-year-old Gary Howatt came to the Nighthawks straight from a junior hockey club in Flin Flom, Manitoba.

"This is my first time in the States," Howatt said as he laced a pair of wrinkled brown skates before a recent practice.

"The guys are a lot stronger in this league. They skate faster and play better than they do in the juniors."

The Nighthawks roster lists Gary Howatt as 5'9" and 170 pounds, but he doesn't look that big. If you entered the Nighthawks locker room and saw his beardless face and his shy, boyish manner, you would never pick him out as one of the leading scorers and roughest players on

fans. "The crowds have been surprisingly good considering the way we've been playing," points out Parker MacDonald, general manager and coach of the Nighthawks.

To free them from the stereotype associated with minor league hockey , the management has presented its team as the "new" Nighthawks. The rock music and the colorful team beanies form only part of their public relations effort. At a recent game against the Hershey Bears, every fan entering the Coliseum received a complimentary Hershey bar from one of the girl ushers. The girls wear red woolen jackets, short blue skirts, and high white vinyl boots. They look like something out of the Houston Astrodome.

But it is the players themselves who most clearly reflect the new trend in minor league hockey. Since the Nighthawks are a farm club for the National League's New York Islanders, they are required to have at least eight players under 23 and only 2 players over 26.

Like most new teams, the Nighthawks have had trouble with the established clubs in the League, winning only two of their first twelve games. "We knew it was going to be difficult right off the bat," admits Coach MacDonald. "It'll take time and patience to get this club moving."

the team.

"Howatt's the gutsiest kid I've ever seen," Parker MacDonald claims. "He'll hit anybody."

But when Gary Howatt talks about himself he says, "Sure my toughness helps me, but if I don't work on the basic skills of the game, then I won't make it to the National League."

As a young and relatively small club, the Nighthawks must rely on speed and

agility. Skeeter Teal, a fo Catherines, Ontario, is o fast Nighthawk skaters. itis forced him out of professional hockey for two years, but he spent last season with an amateur 'senior' team "getting myself back on skates."

Skeeter Teal may have a hockey player's name , but he doesn't have a hockey player's body. He stands six feet tall but weighs only 165 pounds. "Sure my size holds me back," Skeeter admits. "You get near a guy who you'd really like to lay into, but you know you've got to move around him or else get clobber~d."

While he has no illusions about his abilities, Teal thinks that major league expansion has created new opportunities.

"It's hard to say whether I'll make it or

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Volume six, number two December 14, 197217

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Keeler Building Wilton 762.8324 15 Whitney Ava New Haven 865.1669 Mon-Fri 9:00-9:00 Sat 9:00-

not," Skeeter says. "It's all a matter of desire and whether or not the breaks come your way."

Since the Nighthawk season opened, Skeeter has lived in a beach house in East Haven with teammate Neil Nicholson. "I fmd I can live pretty comfortably on my hockey salary," Skeeter observes. "Ten, fifteen thousand a year-that's decent money."

Skeeter Teal likes to keep up with the latest mod fashions. His long blonde hair is cut in a shag style. When he wears his hockey uniform , his hair grazes the shoulders of his jersey.

Most of the Nighthawk players enjoy dressing well. Neil Nicholson has playedas a professional for four years and has observed a difference in men's fashions among the various hockey cities. "I used to get my clothes in Montreal when I was playing for the Providence Reds," Nicholson recalls. " At first they used to laugh at me down in Providence. Then , three months later the same thing would come out in the stores down there."

After hockey games, many Nighthawk players flock to some of New Haven'~ better bars. In past years, Blades players could often be seen at the dingy Arena Bar and Grille, sipping on beers and making time with middle-aged women . But · most of the Nighthawks frequent the Zodiac or Pat's or the Coliseum Lounge on Crown St. Here , at "New Haven 's Newest Live Spot," some of the young Nighthawks attract a new breed of hockey "groupies"- girls in tight sweaters and mini-skirts, secretaries or students who are always ardent Nighthawk fans.

But not all the Nighthawks are young men who enjoy clothing, bars, and New Haven girls. Thirty-seven-year-old WiUie 0-ree , the only black man ever to play in the National Hockey League, recently came to the Nighthawks from the San Diego Gulls. He is starting to go bald slightly and his face shows traces of his 17 years in professional hockey. "It's no rougher for me today than it was ten years ago." 0-ree claims. " I just get tired a little easier."

0-ree thinks this may be his last season. "I like the game, but I've been staying in mostly for the money," the oldest player on the Nighthawks explains. " I've got a couple of business opportunities in San Diego and Vancouver that I have to check out."

Another veteran now with the Night· hawks is Terry Gray. A former forward with Montreal and St. Louis of the National League, Gray left his farm near Montreal this year to return to minor league hockey. He retired as a player two years ago to become the coach of Columbus in the International League.

"But I didn't care for the organization I was in," Gray recalls. "So I phoned Bill Torrey [General Manager of the New York Islanders) , and he sent me to New Haven."

Gray has moved his wife and two children to Hamden, and expects to fmish his playing career with the Nighthawks.

He also hopes to coach again, preferably in the Montreal area.

"In this business you never can tell where you1J be," Terry Gray says. "But I like hockey. It's my life." !'J

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Most of the younger Nighthawks view hockey as only a temporary part of their lives. Ken McPhail , who graduated last year from Michigan Tech with a degree in business administration, fmds professional hockey "an interesting experience."

"It's a rather dull pace of life," he says. "I've got a good two year contract and I'll just see how it goes. I want to get out of hockey while I still have my teeth and while my knees are still good."

Though they receive salaries of more than $10,000, not all the young Nighthawks plan on a hockey career. At a recent practice session, 24-year-old goalie Glenn Resch expressed some of his own misgivings.

"The life of a hockey player is really a pretty shallow one," Resch explained.

As he spoke, only his eyes and mouth could be seen through the holes of his red goalie mask. "You waste a lot of time doing nothing. It's really a pretty sheltered existence." Resch leaned back against the sideboards. Streams of sweat ran down his neck and darkened his white practice jersey. " Let's say you' ve got a team meal at 1 o'clock, and then there's a couple of hours to kill before the game.

I guess you could go to the library for a couple of hours. But you don't. You just watch TV or rest for awhile.

Resch is especially interested in the career of Ken Dryden, the former Cornell goalie who now stars for the Montreal Canadiens. " I'd like to see whether Ken stays around for more than a few years," Resch says. "He's a bright guy- . not going to let himself get stale."

Resch graduated from the University of Minnesota two years ago and played professional hockey last season in Muskegon, Ohio. He hopes to teach and coach high school hockey after he stops playing.

Few of the Nighthawks seem willing to let themselves get stale. Neil Nicholson would like to audit courses at Yale. Barry Boughner took a class at Drake when he played at Des Moines last year. Pat Thornton needs one more credit to earn a degree from Boston University.

This is a new breed of minor league hockey players. They enjoy higher salaries and new pension plans, yet they look to the future.

Skeeter Teal owns a hockey school in St. Catherines and has several other investments. When his hockey career ends, he hopes to start a resort in Northern Ontario.

"Ufe isn' t that long, so you gotta keep making plans," Skeeter Teal says. "You never know when you'll have to stop playing hockey." •

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Roger Cohn, 5 '8", 155 pounds, is a senior at Yale and a member of the Timothy Dwight College hockey tellm.

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The most hated man in New Mexico; the most misunderstood • man In New Haven

by Arturo Gandara and Albert D. Sanchez

"This is the 430th anniversary of our new breed. 'I will lead you out of Egypt,' God said to Moses, and after 430 years, the Hebrews came out of Egypt and into Caanan... ...The Spanish-American is only four-. and-a-half years old , while the Anglo is 25 years old, and the Jew is 60 years old ... By the year 2000 we will have 600 million people who speak Spanish down across the Rio Grande."

freedom and culture must be respected on New Mexico, in South America, Mexico and Canada.

If this view seems somewhat grandiose, it is not out of personal bravado. In 1957 Tijerina had a vision and thereafter viewed.himself as a messenger of God in the tradition of the Hebrew prophets:

I left my warm bed into the cold weather because I wanted to pray...

I wanted to ask God co show me the future of my life. I fell asleep, and I saw frozen horses and this old Kingdom with walls, you know, and these tall pines. The horses started melting and coming to life, and three angels came in my dream to my house to help me...

Those tall pines, they were in New Mexico, the three angels were the angels of the law coming to tell me what I should do. And the frozen horses, they were the land grants that belonged to the pueblos, to my people...

I had found my calling, like a mission.

What had happened to "El Tigre del Norte" (The Tiger of the North)---"The most hated man in New Mexico?" To those who sat in the sparsely filled Law School Auditorium several weeks ago, the words of the reputed Chicano revolutionary, Reies Lopez Tijerina, were blander than the pablum of traditional American politics.

Where was the man, Tijerina, who set his followers on fire, leading the fight to reclaim the Spanish land grants of the Southwest? Where was the man who took over a national forest in New MexThe Law School Auditorium echoed ico, warning, "We'll stay here until "'e with mystical interpretations of history: come to a showdown with whoever feels Tijerina explained the cracking of the he has the right to throw us out." The Liberty Bell as God's message to America man who supposedly led the raid on the end its oppression of the black man. to courthouse in Tierra Amarilla, in which He linked the return of his people to their two policemen were wounded? land in the Southwest to the return of As the spectators in the Law School the Tribes of Israel to the Holy Land.

Auditorium shifted uncomfortably in He went on to attach religious signifitheir seats, the carefully cultivated atcance to the 3 PM June 5, 1967 attack mosphere of logic and reason crumbled on the Tierra Amarilla courthouse, which before the tangled rhetoric of the man occured at the same moment as the Isbehind the podium. Tijerina's formal raeli attack on Jerusalem which began lecture, delivered in a second language, the Six Day War halfway around the succeeded only in embarrassing the Chiworld. The fact that he and Moshe Daycano audience and their invited guests. an, the man who ordered the Israeli There was a vast chasm between Tijerina attack , were born on the same day furthe man, and the political revolutionary ther confirmed his mission. the audience had expected.

If Tijerina was always a religious Reies Tijerina hasn't changed. His mystic, how then did his image as a pospeech was nearly th~ same, word for litical revolutionary catch on? The anword, as the one he gave more than six swer seems to lie with Tijerina's work in years ago in Sante Fe, when he drew an · the Alianza Federal de Mercedes Libres analogy comparing the Tribes of Israel {the Federal Alliance of Free Cityto the lndo-Rispanos in the Southwest.

States). Founded in 1963 at the urgings He remains a man of the soil, a man who of Tijerina's inner voices, the Alianza's speaks with passion and sincerity from purpose was to settle a 120-year-old distht' heart, not the sort of individual with pute by regaining the land which the whom the academically oriented Chicano Spanish settlers held before the Anglo Yalies could identify. The gap between conquest. The grievance began when Mexaudience and speaker was too great. The ico signed over Arizona and New Mexico undergraduates who listened· so halfto the United States in the Treaty of heartedly were only junior high and high Guadalupe-Hidalgo. At that time, the school students during the height of TiAnglos had agreed to honor the private jerina's career. When he spoke of the land holdings in New Mexico that had " miracle" of the " Indo-Hispanic" popubeen given to the Spanish settlers by the lation boom, could an audience so faMexican viceroys. Inevitably , the Texan miliar with Zero Population Growth and "gringos" began to move in, taking the Women's Liberation be sympathetic? land from the illiterate and clannish To Tijerina, the former Pentecostal colonists, sometimes through violence preacher, the miracle of life represented and other times through legal skuldugby the teeming millions of lndo-Hispanos gery. After fifty years the U.S. Supreme indicates a heaven-sent mission for the Court validated all existing land titles and Chicano culture--and for himself. In the tossed out the old Hispano claims. fall of 1969, jailed on dubious charges of By late 1966, Tijerina claimed an aiding and abetting his wife in the destruction of Forest Service signs and of assault- Alianza membership of 30,000, and the sympathetic attachment of many thouing a forest ranger, he wrote from his sands more. The Alianza membership cell: was not made up ~f militant young I am writing these reflections to my Chicanos, but of middle-aged and older people and the entire Indo-Hispanic people who considered themselves world-Latin America... Times have Spanish {not Mexican-American, Indochanged and the spirit of the blood Hispano, or Chicano). Many of Tijerina's is no longer limited by national or con- early followers could still remember how tinental boundaries... Our property, the land their families and pueblos owned

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Volume six, number two becember 14, 197219

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had been systematically appropriated by shyster Anglo lawye~ who preyed upon the Hispano unfamiliarity with the laws of the American conquerors. The Alianza was not a revolutionary organization-its concern was the relatively narrow issue of land. Even the wife of New Mexico's Governor Cargo was a member.

Pursuing his dream, Tijerina organized a symbolic 65-mile hike from Albuquerque to Santa Fe in July, 1966, to petition the government for more civil and property rights for Spanish-speaking Americans. Then, with 350 men, women and children, he "took over" Carson Na· tiona) Forest (a former land grant) and held a mock trial of three forest rangers.

Although the group eventually left peace· fully and released the rangers, Tijerina was arrested and later convicted of assaulting a Federal officer. The press began to describe him as the "leader of the militant land grant claimants." His reputation spread.

In June, 1967, Tijerina's followers attempted to hold a convention in the Carson forest, but were thwarted by the local District Attorney , Alphonso Sanchez, who believed Tijerina had Communist support in his activities. Sanchez, who had frequently interfered with the AJianza's organizational efforts, arrested ten of its leaders to discourage attendance of the convention. In response , a group of armed AJianza members raided the nearby courthouse in Tierra Amarilla in an attempt to make a citizen's arrest of Sanchez, who was not present. Nevertheless, the corps of Alianza members managed to free their ten companeros , leaving behind a wounded state policeman and a deputy sheriff. The authorities overreacted and sent 350 national guardsmen, state police, and heavy military equipment in pursuit.

The Tierra Amarilla raid , then, was not the initial battle of a revolution aim· ing to wrest the Southwest from the grasp of the gringo. Tijerina became a cause celebre, and a "revolutionary leader" through the state's response to the raid and the interpretation given to the incident by the emerging milita.nt faction of the Chicano movement.

Those who view the man as a fieryeyed John Brown should not forget that he has steadfastly maintained his innocence in connection with the raid: "I was in the Coyote area at the time, and heard about it on the radio." If his denials are not enough, Tijerina , acting in his own defense, was acquitted in December, 1967, of all charges connecting him with the raid.

Exultant in his victory, Tijerina told the press: My philosophy is that of the cricket against the lion. The cricket is the king of the insects and the lion is king of the beasts. The cricket has no chance against the lion so he jumped into the lion's ear and tickled him to death. That's what we're going to do to the United States-we're going to tickle him to death.

But when Tijerina was asked if he styled himself after Emilio Zapata, he said: "I admire his work, but I admire the work of Moses more."

Two years later , after beingjailed in connection with the burning of a forest sign, Tijerina went on to state in a letter to the Indo-Hispanic people: I pray to God that all the Indo-His-

panic people will awake to the need for unity, and to our heavenly and constitutional responsibility for fzghting peacefully to win our rights.

Still, his revolutionary image continued to grow out of all proportion. In March, 1968, the California Peace and Freedom Party briefly named Tijerina as its vice-presidential running rriate for comedian-activist Dick Gregory. That same month in a speech at the University of New Mexico, Gregory said that Negroes would burn the country down house by house. Tijerina told reporters immediately afterward: "We don't condone violence. There has been too much talk of revolution. We hope to change the state with moral and legal pressure."

During his two-year incarceration directly thereafter, the AJianza gradually expanded the scope of its activities and carne closer to the social movement Tijerina was originally credited with founding. Upon his return from prison, Tijerina was unable to relate to the organization as it had evolved. The AJianza split. Now, Tijerina's main concern lies with his Institute for the Study of Justice .

The message of Reies Tijerina which has remained unchanged since his vision in 1957 contradicts his image as a political revolutionary. Is it any wonder that the expectations of the Yale audience--who know only of Tijerina the symbol--were not met? That the most critical and skeptical segment of the audience was the Yale Chicano community? Since Tijerina fell short of their expectations, they regarded his present position as evidence of anything from a sellout, to an attempt to obtain a presidential pardon for his past sins.

The cold fact is that Tijerina's movement at its height was unrepresentative of the Chicano movement. It was an agrarian movement of older people. The Chicano community, on the other hand, is the most urbanized and youngest minority group in the country. It is this latter group with its access to educational facilities which has produced the Yale Chicano.

Tijerina is a mystical, Pentecostal preacher on a sincere but quixotic quest for justice. If we can accept this view, the response by Tijerina to a question from the audience can be better understood: "Five years ago you told us to kill the gringo. Now you ask us to call him brother. Que paso?" "l said something about the Uberty Bell. Wasn't that good enough for you.?" e

Arturo Gandara, a first yeru law student, is a na rive of New Mexico who has followed Tijerina's career for several years.

Albert D. Sanchez, a second year law student, is chairman of the LAtino Law Students Association at Yale.

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Lucas N--..:.....:- A confession.

by David Rosen

In Lucas N _ _ : A Confession the author presents actual testimony recorded by the New Haven Police Department and used at trial to convict Lucas N of manslaughter. The confession has been edited, the order rearranged and names of individuals changed, but nothing appears in this version that was not present in the original text of the confession.

After they left, me and Rose came back and went to playing records on the table in the kitchen, cause thats where the record player was, and I was in the bed with her son, and she just went to talking to me like I was Lonnie. Lonnie look, she said come on lets dance Lonnie. I'm going home, I got to see Lucas. I said Rose look this is me who the hell you talking about, I ain't no Lonnie. So I dance a little more and I drink a little more and she drink a little more and she called me Lonnie just a little bit more, and so I woke Jim up, that's when she went in there and sat on the bed, and right back on the bed and woke Jim up, her son, Jim, and I said, Jim, I said, Who Rose live with over there and don't tell me no lies. I want you to tell me the truth and he said, Lonnie lived with her the whole time she was ove¡r there.

I got a few more drinks and she was laying on the bed and I went in there and I pulled her off the bed. I said, Who this Lonnie and she said I don't know damn Lonnie. Good. I put her back on the bed and there was about half of that rum left, no soda, just half of the rum, and so we started drinking. Then she said, Lucas, this was her words, Lonnie look, I love you, she said, but Lucas, I pay his rent over there, I get him food and everything, but it ain't my house so long as Lucas's over there.

Now, lets jump back to the street. All that time I was in the street they were telling me, people that knowed her and me were telling me, Say now, you don't have no old lady. Lonnie got her. So I knew that, but then still I didn't catch her. I never catch her with nobody, but I know she be gone some time three weeks, some time two weeks. Like Christmas, when she left, I had bought Jim a bicycle and everything but she wasn't there, and Jim he wasn't home neither, because she takes him.

So, I thought this; She did want me, no, she didn't, she really did want me, loved me, but she didn't want me full time she just want me in and out. But even the times she didn't want me, that woman would pay some place for me to stay and have the food too, for me to eat. I think about this now, God knows, I think about it and God knows I didn't mean to kill her.

This is what happened, we started in the bed, she was naked and I was naked, she didn't have on a stitch or nothing because we just started talking in the room. And then Rose prided herself on that one thing, if she get naked and I get naked.... Now, I ain't hit her and she hadn't hit me, we were just sitting on the top of the bed, and we ain't made no love or nothing, we just sitting there like this and we arguing, we ain't arguing, we discussing things, before we get into this argument, but it's getting hotter all the time, you know, so I told her like this, I said, Rose, I said now, I hear that you does go with Lonnie and all the time you was over there. ..she said I don't know a Lonnie.

Then I pulled the pint of liquor out of the coat pocket and she said, You ain't got no coke. Now she would not drink no coke, but also she would not drink at all

unless I got coke to drink with mine cause she knowed how I can't drink without coke.

But she had red rock cola, which wasn't a coke cola and I hate them imitations, you know. She knowed this, and she said well, you didn't tell me you were going to get rum, so the only thing in the box is that Red Rock. I said well, after you been out there with that cat all this here time, you couldn't even think just to get me a coke cola.

So we set there looking at TV and I don't know what was on TV, but there was noise and there was a picture. So she said, like this, she. gets right up, after about five minutes, and she said, Lonnie, she said goddamit, she said come on and get me my clothes I want to go home to Lucas.

So, I don't say nothing, because I don't want to shut her up. I want to hear the whole details. So I followed her when she gets up and walks to Jim's room, followed her. just listening, and r m bare-footed and she bare-footed and she got on nothing but her panties and she ain't got on no bra.

So she say, say you know, Lucas going to kill me, he .going to kill you too. First thing he going to kill you. But no, she say, maybe he too smart, he probably got a bitch over there in the house now. That had her so worried, she talking to Lonnie and saying over and over, He got a woman there, Sally been all over there. That damn man, she says, he got that goddam Sal. Then we went to fighting. Because it, it got right to me that this cat has been living with her for three weeks and she done tell me I ain't got nobody I just been saving for you. So I just went to hitting on her.

What you saving for me, I say, what you been saving.

That was the last that I remembered that night. I wasn't hitting her with any¡ thing except my hands. I wasn't even hitting her with my fists just at the start of it.

And she was hitting me, I mean she was kicking me and she was hitting me and then I was drunk, cause every time she kicked me or hit me, I'd fall further than I thought I could possibly falJ, and every time I'd fall further and fall against the wall, further, I would get madder and I would come back with something. Maybe I just didn't want to fall again. ¡ Then she got the mop and I used the mop handle. When she got loose from that she got the broom and I got it from her and then I used the broom.

One time I hit her with a chair. Because all the time I hit her I knocked her down, but then she'd kick me with something, so I hit her with the chair. Next I got, you know, I got electric cord, I had about fifty feet. It wasn't plugged in, I plugged it in this morning because I had to plug it in for the TV, but that was when I didn't know she was dead. I slept with her all night, but I didn't know she was dead.

But then she wasn't hurt, I wasn't hurt.

I come up with the cord and I didn't hit her with it, I just reached and put it round her throat and thats when I was dragging her around the floor, her head then, not her throat because I wasn't choking her, I think there was too many cords just going around there to choke her ....

If you look in the trash can you'll see her nightgown and everything, I put that in there this morning and I ~opped the floor this morning, but I still didn't know she was dead. Don't get me wrong, I didn't know she was dead until I got through with all that and she still wouldn't say nothing....

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Volume six, number two December 14, 1972111

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But at the time it was before anything happened like she getting killed. Fifty feet of cord I had then and it all doubled up, so I just grabbed that and throwed it around her head and drug her in the kitchen again ... ...blood all over the kitchen all over the living room, blood all over the bed, cause she had went in and got into the bed and she was running, she was running, but she would never tell me nothing. I said OK, I said, tell me, just tell me, goddarn it, cause I'm going to kill you if you don't.

Well, she wouldn't tell me, so I said OK, I ain' t going to hit her no more, she ain't going to tell me. Then I took her in the bathroom and I stuck her head under the cold water and I seen blood coming out of her nose and I hold her under there until blood was a-coming out, I see blood, and then she hold her head up again and I let her up, and she hold her head up, and all I was trying to do was not to kill her. But at the same time then when I was saying to myself how not to kill her, I was saying I would kill her: out loud, I was repeating to her, I'll kill you, I'll kill you, kill you, and whe.n she get up, and blood in that water and everything, I wiped her face and I said well, you got something to tell me, and she say, No I don't Lucas. I didn't do it.

When I come back with half a pint she's laying in the tub. I come back there and I hit her on the shoulder. Come on, I said come on get in bed, and she got up and walked to that bed, and that was something about 3:00 when I walked her to bed.

Then all I know that this, that she said she was hurting, but she was walking when she went to bed.

Come morning when I wake, I cried .

I cried, I tried to beg her pardon, cause I didn' t think she was dead. I thought she did .vhat she always do, she was playing possum.

Then I went in and ftxed Jim something to eat, but all this time I kept feeling she was getting colder and colder, and so I opened her mouth with her teeth and everything and then I set her hand a different way, and still she had it that way. She was getting colder and I ftgured she was dead and I told her I was sorry.

But I wouldn' t tell Jim, I knowed I had to get him out of there. So I brought Sam on over to the Avenue and the ftrst person I run into was her brother. I didn't tell him, cause I wanted some time to be able to walk down town ... .l did kill somebody and I thought maybe when you kill somebody you're dangerous and I wanted to walk in, so I left her brother, and I told a friend of mine and he said don't go downtown, and I said I got to, and he said no, she probably up over there now cooking there.

Well, I said, I ain't got no key, I left the key in the house, the key is in the house, and he said, well I'm going to check. He took off then, and I went with him up to half a block from the house, but then I turn and run, and I come straight downtown.

That's all I know now, that's the truth in my best knowledge. I was whupping her, I wasn't killing her. She just went to bed with me. I took her to bed, and she didn't talk with me, she just come into bed, and said I'm hurting. I didn't believe that she was hurting as moch as she said, because I know if she stay up that long she couldn' t be hurting like that. But then when I woke up and she was dead, I tried everything to wake her but she was dead. This ain't only sorry now. I'm .. .l'm '6filling to give my life. I think I was wrong, but now I know not only that, but that she knowed that I

was killing her at the time. And that's what hurts so, is that she knowed I was killing her, and how it took so long. What really makes me wrong is how what I was asking her to do was just admit that she was wrong and there I was and I was doing all the wrong. â&#x20AC;˘

David Rosen, free lance writer, is a third year student at Yale Law School.

Letters To the editors and readers of The New Journal, The rally held on the Green November 9th was the first I have seen in which students comprised only a small percentage of the participants gathered. The rally was in support of the Farah Pants Boycott, an attempt to ftght the oppression of Chicano workingwomen in Texas and New Mexico by the huge Farah Company.--- one which refuses to allow the formation of a union, preferring to have strikers arrested on exorbitant bail for simple acts of picketing.

The result? As one Chicano union organizer said about his people, "We are timid---because we are intimidated."

The men and women at that Saturday rally---representing a host of unions and joined by YPSL---knew that the rally was only a minor step in the struggle to transform America into a land of justice. I was proud because unlike the people at many studentoriented political rallies, those I was among would not be easily disillusioned and quit, because they started out with no illusions about the society they struggled against and the measures needed to produce change within it.

Now that the anti-serious New Left has faded into waterbeds, beer and "tranquility," it is easy enough for students toreturn to a life of isolation from society. So it shouldn't be too much to ask for students not to do something. For those who support the right of poor workers to organize and live decently, the thing to do is Not Buy Farah Pants--at Macy's, Malley's, and wherever strikebreaking stores continue to order them. Don't buy injustice.

Larry Magarik.

The Groundlings

by David Milch

"Well for a minute I thought you "No, I'm twenty-three. I'm old enough. might be taking a short-cut. But then I The thing is, I don't know how yet. I thought I'd tell you, in case you missed never learned." the sign."

Mark nodded. "That's just ... How can you get to be twenty-three and not Mark glanced at him. "Thanks." know how to drive a car?"

"Well, with the snow, I knew it was hard to see."

"I'm sorry. I just ... I don't know."

The hitch-hiker took the permit from the They reached the toll-barriers on the American side of the bridge. Mark handed visor. "I never got around to it. I never the toll-officer a quarter, and asked about learned." the driving conditions from .the border to "Boy, the shit is getting to hit the fan.

Toronto. The toll-officer replied that he'd You can't ... "Mark looked over at the suggest they take the King's Highway, it hitch-hiker. "Here, well don't poop out ought to have been ploughed and should on me for Christ's ~ake. You saw what ... be clear all the way. Mark thanked him, Sing songs or something. Make a little small talk." and they proceeded to the Customs Area "Well, uh, what would you like ... Shall on the Canadian side, where they were we ... shall I introduce myself?" asked their places of birth, Mark' replying "Great. Right."

Buffalo, and the hitch-hiker Grand RapThe trip from Ithaca to Buffalo normal"Well, my name is Paul Yerman." He ids, and were then issued a temporary ly takes less than two hours, but the snow travel· permit. smiled and offered his hand. "How do made visibility poor, and the road slipyou do?"

Mark handed the permit to the hitchpery, and Mark was able to drive at no "Fine Paul." Mark nodded to him. hiker as they drove away from the Cusmore than half the usual rate of speed.

"Real well, thanks." toms Area. He took the turn marked The trip was further prolonged by his Paul hesitated for a moment before "King H", drove a half-circle, and picked having to make two stops for coffee, for lowering his hand. "Well, and, uh, I'm up the highway . It had not been ploughthough he drove with the heater turned from Grand Rapids, in Michigan." ed, and traffic was moving slowly. "Well off, and the window on his side of the car this is just terrific. This is just frigging " Is that right?" rolled half way down, he experienced con- ballsy . We ought to make it in about "Yes, and ... Say, uh, did you tell me siderable difficulty in staying awake. your name? I'm sorry." twelve hours."

Once, a few miles outside of Buffalo, he "Mark. From Buffalo, in New York."

The hitch-hiker couldn't get the glove "Oh . Pleased ... " Paul began to raise did in fact doze off, and barely awakened compartment open. "Say, I think this is his hand, then lowered it to the seat ain time to bring the car under controL He stuck. I can't. . .I think it must be gain, picking up the permit. "And ... stopped for the next hitch-hiker he saw. stuck." He held the permit out to Mark.

Well, I go to school. To the Divinity The hitch-hiker trotted toward Mark's "Do you ... " car, his chin tucked in to the collar of the "Well put it in the visor or something.

School , at Yale."

"You do, eh? You meet a better class long blue overcoat which he wore against I don't care what you do with it. Put it the cold. Apparently he had been t rying in the visor." Mark sank back down in the of people on the road these days." Mark to get a ride for some time, as his cheeks glanced quickly at Paul, then colored seat. "Look at this. This is the road that and ears were quite red, and he was shivwas going to be ploughed." slightly. "What, and you're going home ering noticeably. Mark leaned across the They drove a while in silence, the now? For vacation or SOJl'!ething?" front seat, opening the door for him, and Paul folded the permit in half. "No, hitch-hiker periodically checking the segot in, smiling. "Bless you.'' curity of the permit in the visor, and othmy father ... passed away. Last evening.

"Where are you going?" Mark asked.

I'm going home now, for the funeral." er-wise occupying himself with staring at "Are you going north?" the passing farmlands. Mark had raised his "Oh, I'm sorry." Mark looked over at "I'm going. . .Yes, north is fine." window, and now again draped his right Paul. "I'm sorry. That's too bad."

"Toronto? I can give you a ride any"Well, it was quite sudden. My mother arm over the back of the seat. After a few where up to there." said it was quite sudden ... and painless. moments his eyes began to close, his grip "Toronto is fine. Yes." relaxed on the wheel, and the car drifted We have that to be thankful for." Paul Mark put the car into gear, checked into the passing lane. A Greyhound which turned and stared out the window. the rear-view mirror, then slowly pulled was perhaps fifty yards behind them and "Actually, I'm ... "Mark's face had back onto the road. "How long were you rapidly approaching sounded its horn and gone red. "Well, I'm sorry. I'm ... God, out there?" they don't put anyorie in the chorus any· blinked its headlights. Mark sat up quick" I believe about an hour or so. I lost ly and steered the car back to the right. more." track .. .I believe about an hour." The Paul did not reply, and Mark kept his He massaged the lower portion of his face hitch-hiker unbuttoned his overcoat, and with his right hand, and looked over at the eyes on the road during the silence which took a deep breath. "Really, thank you. It hitch-hiker, who had not shifted his gaze followed. After a few moments he opened was awfully cold." from the bleak scenery. "Hey, you know his window, glancing at Paul. "Look do "No, I was about to fall asleep. I need- you're supposed to be keeping me awake. you mind if ... Is this going to bother ed someone to keep me up." you? I mean as long as you're not going I didn't pick you up for your looks."

"Well, that's all right. That doesn't. ..

The hitch-hiker turned quickly. "What to talk ... " Mark rubbed his face, and It was still very kind." The hitch-hiker took a long, slow breath. " What I mean is, ...Oh, I'm sorry." it's all right, you know, if you don't want "We nearly got labelled, while you looked over at Mark. "Are you ...Where are you coming from? Have you been on to talk. I understand. But rm going to were away." the road long?" fall asleep, I promise you, if I don't open " I was.. .I'm sorry." the window. I can't keep my eyes open."

"I left Ithaca around three hours ago.

Mark did not speak for a moment.

Paul turned back to Mark. "No ...

Not that long. But I've been up a while.

Then, half-turning to the hitch-hiker, but I'm really, I'm flne. No, but open the I needed someone to keep me up." with his eyes still on the road, said, "Well window. But I'm flne. I'd like ... I'm The hitch-hiker watched the sign for look, why don't you ... You're a pretty happy to talk to you." He smiled weakly. the Peace Bridge Exit pass by his window. reliable type aren't you? Did you ever do "Really."

He was silent for a moment, then cleared time?" his throat. "Say, did you want to get off Mark smiled too. " We may wind up "No ... I ..." with ruptured tongues." at the Peace Bridge? Is that the way to "I mean if I were to let you drive my Canada?"

"Excuse me?'' Paul rubbed his thumb short, you wouldn't whack me over the "What, did we pass it?" along the edge of the folded permit. "I'm head or anything. While I sleep? I've got "Just a little while ago. I just saw the afraid I didn't ... I must not have been to get some sleep." sign." paying ... " The hitch-hiker flushed. "I'm ... The Mark exhaled heavily, stopped the car, trouble is, I'm afraid I can't drive yet."

Mark laughed. "Nothing, Rebop. What and after waiting for a lull in traffic, are you taking in school?"

Mark glance over at the hitch-hiker. " I still don't ... Is that what you were crosSed the median. scraping the bottom then ·looked back to the road. " How old of the car on the conC{ete curb. He mutare you? You look ... C'mon. You've got saying? I'm afraid ... " tered an obscenity. then slid down in the to be older than eighteen. Sixteen. for "No, what I wanted to know was what seat, draping his right arm over its back.

Christ's sake. It's still daylight." are you majoring in? In Divinity School.

"Thanks."

The hitch-hiker shifted on the seat.

Do they have that?"

David Milch 's The Groundlings follows a family for the three days between the death of its youngest member in an automobile and his funeral. Almon Little III, "Judgy, "named and nicknamed for his grandfather, is survived by his parents, James and Mary Emily, and two brothers, Phillip and Mark. Six weeks prior to the death the father was expelled fro.m the home.

Mark is a student at Cornell University, as was his younger brother. In this chapter he is en route to Toronto, Canada, to pick up his older brother, whose air flight from Los Angeles to Buffalo has been re-routed because of a snowstorm. Mark has been awake for twentyfour hours.

•

I

Volume six, number two December 14, 19721 13

"Oh. they don't have majors."

"They don't," Mark said.

"No, they have areas of concentration.

One concentrates on the faith or路on the ... denomination of his choice. Well ac. tually I suppose it's the same thing."

"Sure. What was your area?"

"Well ... Until a short while ago, I was concentrating on Calvinist Theology.

Especiall)' on the theology of the Dutch Reformed Church. And also on the history of the Dutch Reformed Church. I've studied ... For three and a half years I concentrated on the theology and the his路 tory of the Dutch Reformed Church."

"Uh-huh. What'd you switch to?

What's your area now?"

"Oh, you wanted ... I changed, yes.

Just a short while ago."

Mark ran his fingers through his hair, looking at the rear-view mirroe, then back to the road. "Uh-huh. To what, was what I wanted to know."

"Oh. Yes. To Catholic theology. From Calvinist ... From Dutch Reformed."

Paul turned back to t he window.

Mark glanced at Paul, then wiped his mouth, looking back to the road.

They drove a while without speaking.

Mark changed positions every few moments, frequently massaging his wrists and his neck, and occasionally looking over at Paul, who did not shift his gaze from the window for perhaps a quarter of an hour. At the end of this time he looked down and absently retrieved the permit, which had fallen to the floor-board of the car. He stared at it for a moment before suddenly turning to Mark. " Do you know, are you at all familiar with the history of the Dutch Reformed Church? In, for example, South Africa? Do you know it's history?"

Mark looked at Paul for a long moment. The car began to swerve, and he turned back to the road. " Uh, no. No, I'm not. Why do you ask?" " The Dutch Reformed Church has been the most powerful ... has been responsible, almost single-handedly, for every ... action, taken by South Africa, for the past three hundred years. Do you know that?"

Mark took a slow breath. "No, uh-uh."

"Slavery, for example, has been supported , vehemently advocated by the leading voices in the Church. Not only ...

The Church has sanctioned the suppression, not only of the blacks, but of the Indians, the half-castes ... The Church has sanctioned the suppression of their rights. Did you know that?"

"I ... you know, just what I read ... " "Oh, I know you might raise questions about the English. The fact that South Africa was an English colony."

Mark rubbed the back of his neck.

"Right. Right."

"But the English have never involved themselves in South Africa's ... internal affairs. The English ... historically, the English have been concerned with South Africa only as a refueling station. For their ships. They settled only in the coastal areas: But the Dutch, you see, carne to settle the land. They weren't ... the Dutch carne to live. Eventually they occupied the whole of the interior."

Mark shifted in his seat. "There it is."

"And then, you see, when the Suez Canal was built, why the English lost interest. During virtually the whole of the nineteenth century, the English ... So that really it was not the English at all.

It was the Dutch, the Boers, who were ... responsible." Paul turned to Mark. "Do you see?"

"The Boers."

"Exactly."

"Hey Paul ... " " And it was the faith of Calvin which was the structuring ... force. In their lives.

It was ... Are you familiar at all with Calvinism. With its doctrines?".

"No. Not intimately, no. Hey, Paul, listen to me for a second. I mean, don't misunderstand me, I'm interested in this, you know, under ordinary circumstances. But I mean, I'm kind of tired right now, and I thought ... I mean let's talk, you know, but I'm not up to anything too heavy."

Paul stared at Mark for a second, then loqked down. "I'm ... sorry. I shouldn't 1be ... I was very ... involved, with the Church, for some time. I shouldn't ... " "No, I mean, ordinarily ... " "I'm certain you have your own ... concerns. I shouldn't ... And I, too, I suppose, should concern myself ... " Paul fell silent.

Mark glanced over at him. "Hey, don't ... I mean, let's talk, you know. I just meant if we could lighten up."

Paul did not reply.

After a moment, Mark nodded. "Paul."

When Paul dtd not respond Mark shook his head. "Oh, Paul."

Paul turned to him. "I'm sorry. I wasn't ... " Mark sank down in the seat. "Is, uh, predestination, is that ... God, this is " "Excuse me?"

"Is predestination, I mean I'm kind of a free-lance Episcopalian, but aren't the Calvinists ... Isn't predestination ... " "Double predestination. Double ... " "Double. Right ." " ... election." Paul turned so that he faced Mark. " The Calvinists believe not only ... not only that God elects certain souls for salvation, but also that He elects those who are to be damned. Did you ...

They believe ... Well don't you see?

Where does the idea of election first appear? Among what people?"

"The Jews, right?"

"The Israelites. Among the twelve tribes of Israel. The idea of election frrst appears among the tribes who call themselves the People of the Covenant." Paul paused for a moment. "Now when the Boers, the Trek-Boers they were called, when they went into the interior .. .

Well , it was natural, given their ... theology, given the idea of election, it was inevitable they should begin to see parallels.

Between themselves, and the children of Israel. Lost in the wilderness, wanderers ...

"The literature is ... I've seen them, you know. I've studied their diaries, and many of them contain outright ... assertions. That the Boers had been one of the lost tribes, had been scattered, and were now reunited. I've seen ... And when they encountered the Bantu? When they first made contact with the tribes of the Ama-Xhosa, in the Orange River valley?

Who, logically, must ... Well if the Boers were to be the people of the Covenant, elected by God, chosen by him to be His people, who, logically , must the Bantu be?"

Mark turned. ''The Philistines." " The Canaanites. Of course. Trespassers on the land of Israel. Usurpers of the land of milk and honey, promised to Is-

want some food?" rael by the Lord." Paul sat back in his ..Well, I'd like, if you don't mind waiting, seat. After a moment his gaze moved to I'd like a pastry." the window. "For three hundred years "Hey, no, sure." the Boers have suppressed the Bantu, in"If you'd rather not..." voking scripture, citing the Calvinist the"No, cook. C'mon, you pick one out ologians, while the Church ... " They passed a sign indicating that a service area for me...

Paul looked at him. "Oh, 1..." was a mile ahead. Mark checked the gas "No, go ahe'a d." gauge. " .路.. has capitulated. Not capituPaul turned to the pastry tray. "Well, lated. The Church has been one of the asthis looks like an apple, here. And I think vocates, the foremost advocate of the ithis is a cheese. Would you like..." Paul dea." turned to Mark. "Would you like ..."

"Hey Paul."

"You're the boss."

"Of course this phenomenon ... We Paul turned back to the tray. "Well, see this pattern repeated among the Calthis is ... No, this is another apple. And these viitists everywhere. Among .. . The only over here I think are blueberries. Which if difference is, they've never ... in any they are, are my personal favorites." other area, they've never gained power.

"Two blueberries, you're on."

Not on a scale ... In other areas, a cos路 Paul quickly put a pastry on each of two mopolitan culture develops, surrounds plates, and handed one to Mark. They them, and the process is ... confined.

But it is repeated. On a smaller scale, to be carried them , along with their coffee, to the cash-register. Paul put his food down and be sure ... But in Grand Rapids, for example ... It is repeated. The persecutions reached into his pockets.

Mark had three quarters in his hand. " r "Hey, that's all right."

Mark turned to the approach lane .or the service area.

"No, please, I'd .. .It's my pleasure." " ... committed in the name of God Paul unwrinkled a five dollar bill and that are ... unacceptable. I renounce, I offered it to the cashier. 'Tm sorry, It's cannot ... The persecutions committed the only .. .I don't have anything smaller." in the name of Calvin's God are ... unacThe cashier looked past Paul to the change ceptable." in Mark's hand. Paul put the bill on top of They came to a stop in the restaurant the cash-register. "Here. Please." parking-lot. Mark sat in silence for a The cashier stared at Paul for a moment, moment, leaning back in his seat, his then slowly took the bill and made change, hands clasped behind his neck. Paul stared laying it on the counter beside Paul's out the window for a short time, then outstretched hand. Paul put it in his looked at Mark. "Oh, we're ... , pocket, picked up his food , and thanked "We're at a restaurant." Mark's voice her very much.

They walked to a table and sat down. was quiet. "I'm gonna go get some gas, and why don't you get some coffee? All "Hey, thanks." right? Do you want some coffee? That "No, I was glad to. It was my pleasure." might be good for you." .

Paul smiled at Mark, who was absently "We're ... Coffee? Well ... Of course. spooning the foam from the hot chocolate Certainly." Paul slowly began to unbutinto an empty water glass. "Would you ... ton his coat. He looked over at Mark. "One After you've tasted it, tell me how you would not ... if one were to renounce liked the blueberry danish. l'm ...Don't that God ..." rush though. Take your time."

"Paul, wait a second." Mark looked Mark glanced at him, then picked up his out at the frozen ruts in the snow which fork and cut a piece of the pastry, washing covered the parking lot. "See I haven't it down with a swallow of coffee. He smacked his lips. "I mean, is that New been following you too well in this, is the problem. I've had kind of a hard day at York City, or not? That is like New York the office myself, and, uh, my, you know, City." He paused for a moment, then my empathy threshold is, you know, kind looked down and muttered. "To borrow of low. See so I don't know. I don't know a phrase." abcut any of that." Paul was looking down "Is it ...You like it? Blueberries are my now, trying to fit the top button of his favorites." coat into its hole. The color had left his "Sure. New York City. Great." Mark picked up a sugar-packet and began to face. Mark leaned across him and opened his door. "Look, you go into the cafeteria, shake it. "There I was, cruising along, okay? And I'll get gas and meet you. immaculate to beat the band ... " Okay? Go get some coffee."

"Excuse me?"

Paul slowly got out of the car. "Coffee.

"Nothing. A bag of shells. I was ... An Of course." unfortunate word-choice."

After he'd bought gas Mark parked the "I don't..." car and walked into the restaurant, where "What I said ...A fact which was not...

Paul was standing beside a stack of trays conditioning me, for a little while, just near the food-counters. Eaeh got a tray. started to condition me again. That's all.

Paul drew a cup of coffee, and Mark one How's the Church?" hot chocolate. Then he asked whether Paul stared at Mark briefly, then looked Paul would like anything else, otherwise down. "I'd like to ...apologize. I'm sorry they could get out of the line and pay the if I bored you. l'm .. J was very involveq, cashier. Apparently Paul didn't hear him. with...the Dutch Reformed Church. For Mark lowered his eyes and repeated the some time. Until a short while ago. I didn't mean to .. J'm sure you have your question.

Paul hesitated briefly, then said, " Well, own concerns." if you wouldn't mind waiting, I'd .. .I would "It's all right," Mark said. "Don't like a pastry." His voice was barely audible worry about it." " I...Uh, say it again. I didn't hear the " Well, I just wanted to apologize." last part."

"It's all right. Let's maintain "I'd like ...Well, if you'd rather. ..We equilibrium here, okay? Let's not. .." don't have to. I'm not that hungry."

Mark smiled thinly. "We're like New York "No, I didn't hear you, was all. Do you City."

Volume six, number two jDecember 14, 1972114

Paul smiled too, and ate a piece of checking account." pastry. "Well fine. I just wanted to...

"And I have no checks. Which leaves Fine." He sipped his coffee. "Well, and us where?" you're on vacation now, are you? You're "Well ... " out of scbool now?"

"Behind the eight-ball Paul, as the Mark did not speak for a moment. He saying goes. Holding our own." Mark lowered his eyes. "Ah, the irony of it all. rubbed the back of his hand against his I fall upon the thorns ...The flagellation of mouth. "Urn, I can't believe ...For it all."

Christ's sake, why would you ...Look, I "I'm sorry. I'm afraid ... " don't know how ...Are you sure you're "In the sense that school is out, in that all right? I mean, I know you're upset, particular sense I am on a vacation." Mark that's very understandable, with a death took a hesitant breath. "Look, are you and all, but, uh, are you sure you're in done? Let's ...Would you mind if we left control of yourself!" now? I'm in kind of a hurry."

"I am ...Yes, 1 am in control of myself." Paul's voice rose. "Why would Paul rose quickly. "No, not at all. I didn't realize ...Of course." you .. .I made an error. Of course I am in Mark got up too, draining the remnant control of myself." of his coffee. He put the cup down, and " I mean, you know, before we had raised the collar of his coat, then stretched, coffee you delivered this long dissertashivering. "Are you ready?" tion on South Africa, which, I am pretty "Yes. Certainly." sleepy, did not appear to me to have "Then we shall be on our way." much to do with the price of eggs. Which They got back on the King's Highway. leads me, combined with your broken The snow had slackened somewhat, and compass..." road conditions were better, so that Mark " I was attempting...The history of the was able to make up some of the time lost Dutch Reformed Church in South Africa during the earlier part of the trip. After .. .1 was using that history to illustrate a perhaps twenty minutes driving they passed similar...pattern in other areas. In, for a sign indicating that Toronto was · example, Grand Rapids. To illustrate the reasons which lead to my ... reallignment." seventeen miles distant, and the airport twenty-three. Mark asked Paul whether "All right. No one is questioning... " it would be all right if he were to drop him "To explain why Catholicism is the true and proper faith." at an exit for Toronto instead of taking him into the city, he had to meet a plane.

"Paul, I'm not trying to fault your Paul replied that that would be fine, but reasoning or anything. I was only pointdid not respond to Mark's inquiry as to ing out that its ... relevance, you know , was which exit would be best for him. When pretty vague, to whatever we were Mark repeated the question he finally discussing. I wasn't..." answered that the truth was, he didn't "Catholicism is the faith of...forgiveness. know, he wasn't familiar with the city.

Catholicism teaches, is predicated on, Mark looked over at him, then began to apprehension of the miracle of Grace. On drum his fingers on the steering-wheel. the miracle of Christ's intervention.

"What do you mean? Did you just move Catholicism frees man of his legacy. It up here?" frees man of his inheritance of sin."

Paul hesitated for a moment before Mark took a deep breath. "Paul, look. speaking. "No, that's not...Actually any Why don't you come with me to the exit is fine." airport and we'll work something out, "Well , but which one? The airport's on okay? Maybe my brother'll have mooey. the_other side ~f tow'!~ I can drop you at Okay? Why don't you relax, get some wh!~hever one IS best. sleep or something, until we get to the Uh, actually I don't...Toronto is not airport." my ... final destination."

Paul stared at Mark. "You do not feel "What, are you going further north?" that that isn't so? You do not believe "No, I'm .. .headed, ultimately, for that?"

Grand Rapids. In Michigan."

"I have no opinion. Honest to God Mark kept his _ey~ on the road. Finally Paul. Just relax, all right?" he rolled down his wmdo~, and tur~ed the "Are you, perhaps, a Calvinist?" heater off, then cleared his throat. Uh, I "I am not. ..a Calvinist. 1 am not a want you to correct me if I'm wrong here Calvinist. Relax."

Paul, but, I wo~d have to say that right "Do you think .. .It is an indefensible ... re gomg out of your way. Is that Calvinism • by emphasizing the idea of now you ?" correc t · works either as the source or for .. Paul was looking out ~e window. example, to cite ...or as a m'anifestation, of A~tually ·;;1 suppose that s true ...Yes, I election, as the ...Dutch Reformed Church, be~~ve so. happens to do, Calvinism has made mao, Uh-huh. Do you want to tell me why has endowed man with an unbearable , d . th t?"

• yo~. re 01~g a · , sense of...responsibility. Man, unaided ...

Uving with that responsibility must . ~ell, I "! not..J, ~·was~ t sure of <~frecttons. I ve neve~ h1~~h-hiked before. destroy either ...either the faculty of merI ve always_taken t~ns. . cy or, if the burden ...Or the faculty of Mark shivered. May I, would tt be safe belief. In the possibility of goodness. to ~.ssume, th~~· that you're tap-city?"

Man ...cannot accept that."

I don t...

They passed the first of the exits for ;;vou're broke, is tha~ correct?"

Toronto. Mark wetted his Hps and the Yes. W~~· I have a little more than roof of his mouth. "Well, we're almost fou.~ dollars. . . there. We're almost there." · And I ~~ve e1ght dollars. Which makes "But Catholicism, on the other hand ... how much· Through Catholicism through its ;;Twelve dollars." institutions, Christ di~penses, eternally, Corr~ct. Now, ~o you have a check forgiveness of man's sinfulness. And through forgiving, permits.:.transcenor any~hing~ An~~!"ng you could use to get .~ P an; ticke~ · , dance. Of the sorrow of mortality. FiniNo, I m afraJd ... l ve never had a tude. Permits man to accept himself. His

own nature." Paul took a hesitant breath.

"Do you see? Do you understand that?" " I do Paul. Hang on."

Paul stared at Mark. ''Do you see that?"

"I do. Yes." "Are you ..."

"No. Honest to God." Mark's teeth had begun to chatter. "Take it easy."

"My father. ..could not see that. My father." Paul looked down. "My father could not see that. My father eould not forgive me that. My belief. My father could not..." Paul again turned to the window.

Mark looked over at him. He was silent for a moment, then sank down in the seat, and said that the next sou~d heard would be that of the breaking dawn.

After a moment Paul turned halfway 'round in his seat, facing the window.

"Christ...will forgive. Christ will forgive me. Christ...To show us this, He willed his crucifixion between the murderer and the thief. To show that he could forgive us ...even murder. Even ..."

"That's not so Paul. You didn't..." " ...crimes such as murder. That he could forgive ...even murder." Paul looked down. "Do you suppose He would forgive ...He will not forgive. We can never be sure that he will forgive."

"Sure He will. Don't...Paul , it's going to be all right. Hey." "We can never be sure you see. It is possible that even ...even the Dutch Reformed, for example .. .It is possible that they are correct. That their beliefs..."

They passed a road marker indicating that the airport was a half-mile distant. " Paul ..." " ...They may be, you know. We must not. .."

"Now give yourself some slack." " ...condemn them. In fact..Jt is true, you know, that all of their beliefs are based on Scripture. Even ...The suppression of the Bantu, for example, is based, justified by Scripture. By the story of Ham. Did you know that? That the children of..."

"Paul, please... " '' ...Ham were cursed for his sin? That they were cursed by the Lord to be hewers of wood, and drawers of water, for his sin? Did you know that? That the Lord cursed Ham and his children, forever?"

"No. Hey Paul ..."

"Did you know that?"

Mark took the turn-off for the airport.

"Did you know that?" · Mark looked over to Paul. "No, I didn't. I dfdn't...k.now...that."

"Did you know that?"

"No, I. . .Paul, listen ..."

"Did you?"

"No." No. God." Mark shivered.

"What, uh, what for? Why did God curse Ham?" Mark parked the car, then slumped in his seat.

"Ham failed of respect to his father.

Ham ridiculed his father's drunkeness."

Mark turned, staring at Paul, but did not reply.

"Ham came upon his father in shame, and did not shield his eyes. Seeing him drunk and naked, Ham called his brothers to witness."

Mark flashed a wan smile. "Come on."

"The curse was uttered becaus.e the son failed of respect to the father."

"That is merely an unfortunate ... juxtaposition. I do not choose ..."

Paul opened the door on his side. "The Lord cursed ...The Lord does not forgive.

The Lord works through curses. The Lord has .. .': He got out of the car.

"Paul now wait. Even ... " Mark slid across the seat, half-rising from the car, and took Paul's arm. "Hey." "No! I am not fit...l am unclean.''

"Usten .. .'' Mark rose from the car, holding Paul's arm.

"No!" Paul tried to push Mark down.

Mark struggled for a moment, then slipped on the wet snow. His feet went out from under him, and he fell forward, striking his head against the side of the door. He went to his knees, his right hand hand moving to cover a long gash on his forehead. · Paul took a step backward, looking down at him. "You ...Oh my Lord, are you all right?"

Mark was silent, staring dully at the drops of blood which fell to the snow from between his fingers. Finally, without looking up, he said "Get away from me. Get out of here."

"Oh my ..."

"You crazy bastard. Get out of here ."

Paul got to one knee. "Shall I..." He reached for his hankerchief. " Here.

Please."

"Get out. I mean it."

Paul did not move for a short while longer, than lay the hanker chief in the snow and rose very slowly. "I'm sorry.

Please forgive me."

Mark did not reply, and kept his eyes down staring at the blood on the snow.

After a moment Paul began to weep, biting his forefinger, and started through the parking-Jot toward the road that led to the King's Highway. •

David Milch teaches creative writing at Yale. ©Copyright 1972 by David Milch.

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