Volume 8 - Issue 5

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Volume eight, number five March 26, 1975

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The New Journal I March 26, 1975

_____________ conanaent ____________________

TheNewJournal

Volume eight, number five

The write of Spring

David Sleeper Editor-in-Chief Stephen Sternbach Managing Editor Michael Jacobson E xecutive E dit or

Marla Schay DesigMr Bob Liechty Associate Editor CaroiEliel A ssociate Editor Nancy Olcot t Circulation Manager Jean Benefield Production Editor Robert A. Cohen Businas Manager Brian D. Raub Publisher Contributing editors: Daniel De nton, Ronald Roel, Stuart Rohrer, Steven R. Weis man, Daniel Yergin E ditorial Staff: S a ndy Lee, Wendy Wolf Robert H . Barker Business staff: Angus Gephart, adtJertising 17UJTI.Qger; Reg Miller, Jon Steinberg Circulation Staff: Jitn Bick, asst circulation; Jack Ryan, Hugh R. Gross, Eric Kueffner, L. Bucky Levin, Roger Morrow, Leo Oren¡ stein, Asela Russell, Tony Segal, Ed Tron¡ celliti, Rich "cleancut" Viner, John Yandell Credits: Marla Schav-cover & page 12 Eugene Atget Paris c.l910 The New Journal is published by the New Journal a t Yale, Inc., partners in publication with the Yale Banner, Inc., and is printed a t Chronicle Printing Co., North Haven, Conn.

Distributed free to the Yale community. For all others, subsciption rate S7.50 per year.

Copyright C 1975 by The New Journal a t Yale' Inc., a non-profit organization. Letters and uns olicited manuscripts welcome.

3432 Yale Station, New Haven, Conn. 06520 Phone 432.()271 or 436-8650

At first, the hints are small. They are neither boastful not blatant. Instead, they whisper in shy voice and only to those who will stop in the day pace to listen: spring nears. Perhaps for you it is the rain, which seems to soften from sleet to warm drizzle.

Perhaps it is the earth aroma rising, the rich perfume of fecund loam. For you it may be that tenuous blooming blush of violet hysteria or the brieflyspied herd of geese returning to some Northern lagoon. But as child saplings from the prairie woodlands, we should look to the visit of the bearded vulture as guarantor of the vernal equinox.

How noble a specimen of bird would reward our furtive search when first we heard its haunting refrain 'round the Ides. Fidgeting, squirming children at the groaning breakfast board deep in the heartland grain belts, we would cast our tiny eyes at one another in conspiratorial glee on that morning more special to us than Christmas when the bearded vulture's song seemed to hang like the smell of ebon coffee and chum-sweet griddle cakes over the kitchen table. "Lando' Goshen, Pa," Ma would exclaim, "Those tads o' yourn'r wrigglin' more furious 'n a litter o' whelps at drownin' time."

Pa could hear our hearts beat. He would scarcely glance up from his morning Agribusiness man's News Porum & Late Chicage Markets when he issued the delicious edict of release, those longed-for words to free us from the shackles of sobriety and send us into our rainbow-hued forest of fantasy. With a knowing twinkle in his one good eye, he spoke

content~--------------------comment: David Dunlap ponders the arrival of Spring; Bob Sternbach uisits the Snow Chicken cafe; Bobbi Mark teUs about the traumas of editing.

3 Growing Up with BigTex remember the Alamo! remember Dallas!

6

Missy Panzer an interview with photographer Jerry Thompson

The Images That Remain

10 The Yale Hunger Action ProjectWhere It Stands Today an analysis of the YHAP 12

Chris Swenson

Bob Liechty

JohnS. Rosenberg a review of Brendan Gill's Here at the New Yorker

Blue Butterflies with Razor Beaks

dressed to the hilt. Standing on line, I feel a bit out of place in my Mory's tie and jacket, but a part of me has roots here, via Brooklyn and what I know to be Coney Island A venue chic. Most of the guys are dressed toward the flashier end of the Brass Button spectrum, parading rich in gaudy patterned shirts, platform shoes, and crotch-tight pants. The dolls display themselves in outlinepants, lots of makeup, and revealing halter-tops. The line is jittery and talkative, but no one says a word about the $2 cover for a place that doesn't even feature alive band. To complain would be decidedly incorrect considering the exaggerated politesse and air of affected refinement that prevails inside the joint. to us as if he too longed to commune Past the entrance, in a small with the vulture, as if he too for a lobby, s tands the Snow Chicken daybreak's instant would return to emblem, mascot or totem. One has the boyhood of like adventure: "Go ample time to admire it during the on, get the hell out of here. You both wait to be seated. It is a large, gromake me sick. I hope your legs get tesque, papier-mache sculpture of a torn off in a varmint trap." fat hen with protuberant breasts and And off we'd scramble, tumbling ass, a cross between a woman and a and squealing like piglets over one beast. As a product of the human another in a maddened dash heartimagination, it is akin to the figure stop, greased-lightning sweepstakes of the unicorn: a fantastic being to be the first, the very first, ever-so- which does not really exist in the wonderfully first person in the whole world, but which embodies a conwide world to find the mystical, glomerate of certain elements that mythical, Midwestern Phoenix risen exist in strange togetherness here in this hyperventilated coop. Yet only in gaudy splendor from the barren cruel ashes of Winter. Diminutive in retrospect, as one walks out the door, does the justness of the sculpUlysses beckoned to the Sirens, we ture's epitomization become fully imagined phrases never really there-our ears younger then, maybe apparent. Like the coat of arms of an entire age, it proclaims the ethos of too our souls, but when the vulture called we found a message. He spoke the place: a mixture of mindless "culture in pure sensation, " with a to us as if he knew himself to be the cowardly lust for plasticene regularharbinger of spring and the words ity of desirable features , a doll-like were poesy divine: "Skraaaawk, cosmeticism that never grows old. frap-krak-a-rak, skraaaaawk, frapNo tit will do here without its wad of krak-a-rak ... " Dauid W . Dunwp silicone.

In unctuous accents, the host introduces himself and leads you into David Dunlap just finished editing the enormous dancing and sitting the fabulous Yale Banner. area, constructed slopingly and in the round, so that the focus is on the dance floor below. There are two long mirrored bars, and in the dark, what seems to be over a hundred white The world turned inside out plastic-wood tables. The dance floor is brilliantly lit, relatively small and extremely crowded. The overpowering sound system and jerky strobe I wonder why anybody goes to the lights are intended to blow the mind, Snow Chicken Cafe. What peculiar and to produce the effect of having pleasure can be obtained there? Cerentered another world. On the circutainly nothing could be less erotic. lar ceiling, the same white material Yet on a Friday night, the Fords, used for the tables is shaped to Chevys, and Dodges are parked about a block and a half deep on each mimic the vines and branches of a belated, DuPontized bower of bliss. of five deserted streets adjacent to Every few seconds, shrill police that white cinderblock box with the whistles punctuate the long soul purple awning. records, sounds of the dancers adverStanding discreetly before the entrance is a bouncer He will remind tising for themselves. When the music stops, fluttering bird noises anybody flagrantly in violation of lead some of them back to their the "dress code" advertised by the nests. establishment that they had better Everything at the Snow Chicken return more suitably attired. Just tends to blur distinctions. The crazy inside the door the management has lights and look-alike dress make it posted t'he rather elaborate code. It prohibits, among other things, jeans impossible to tell how rich or poor and workboots, and requires jackets any of the people are, or to guess at what they might do on the outside. and collared shirts. (continued on page 15) No need for the sign: everyone is

Growing Up with Big Tex

by Chris Swenson

If you drive south from the dust of Oklahoma, or north from LBJ country, or west from New Orleans and the East Texas pine forests, or east from the cattle ranches of West Texas, you'll see it jutting out of the ground: an aluminum and glass wart on the level, green plain which surrounds it. There are no capital buildings, harbors or rivers to speak of (there is the Trinity River, but it's so low and pitiful that even Dallasites call it the Trinity Trickle). The city seems to stand in the way of railroad tracks and highways as they continue to other places. There's just no good explanation for Dallas being there. It's as if some sort of industrial spontaneous generation happened out there, ruining what would have been some beautiful farm land.

together was during the tornado of 1957. We bad been through a lot of little tornados but this one turned the sky a color I had never seen. It killed ten people, mostly in the negro section, and we could see its angry tail trailing from the boiling clouds as it skipped over our section of town.

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1 In the sixth grade we learned in our Texas history class that i:n 1841 a fellow named John Neely Bryan was the one who actually started Dallas.

Even he didn't seem to have a good reason to live there; he must have gotten tired on his way toward somewhere else and happened to be in kind of a nice spot so he built a cabin, plotted out the land around him and sold it to other lost sojourners who had stumbled off the well-beaten trails to the south and west. The teacher couldn't explain why so many stopped right there on John Neely Bryan's land. The land was good enough but it wasn' t any better or worse than any land within a hundred miles. I remember asking the teacher why so many people came to live there and all she could say was, "They figured it would be a nice place to live. " The important thing is not why it grew there, but that it grew. Eventually, the first few settlers got around to naming their collections of cabins and land after President Polk's Vice-President, a man who will be remembered only because those settlers took his name to honor their new home. And Dallas grew; by the time I entered the story in 1952, it was indeed a city.

Summer was always the dominant season, the one I think of most when looking back. It was always hot and usually humid, with a three week autumn, a three week winter, a three week spring, and the rest a summer that stretched lazily on, the days banging one after another in an endless string. The only thing that distinguished one from another was the violence of the thunderstorms. Webrothers and sisters and the trembling, wiry dog-would hide under the covers of my parents' bed. I still think those gustful rumbling nights are one reason families remain tighter in the South than in any other section of the country. The scariest time we spent huddled

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We lived on the outskirts of the city, and a little snake of water called Turtle Creek flowed by our house.

The Creek curved and twisted within a small, twenty-foot, chalk-walled drop that contained tangled vegatation and slimy creatures you'd never expect to find in a city. The Creek was narrow enough to jump over in some places, in others it was thirty yards across.

Even under the scorching summer sun we would seldom swim because of what was hidden under the surface. One hot day two policemen came down to go fishing and ended up shooting seven cottonmouths which were sunning themselves on the banks. They brought the dead snakes to our yard and a reporter took a picture of the policemen holding them draped over a bamboo fishing pole. The next day the paper ran a story warning mothers to keep their kids away from the Creek, so we couldn't go down there until everybody forgot about it-which took about a week.

2 In 1957, the City of Dallas hosted the Dallas Rangers of the Texas League, one step away from the majors. One year they were a farm team for the Chicago Cubs, the next year the Los Angeles Dodgers, and the Baltimore Orioles the next. Even though our allegiance to major league clubs shifted with each change in ownership, we were always partial to the Rangers. We'd go out to creaky Burnett Field -a used car lot today-and idolize the players' every move.

ElmoBaco

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The New J oumal I March 26, 1975

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There was a shortstop named Angel Segui from the Dominican Republic. Every time he took a turn at bat, he would knock the clods of caked mud off the bottom of his cleats, put down the bat, make the sign of the cross, then spit into his hands. One night he hit a homer in the bottom of the ninth to win a close game against the hated Amarillo Raiders. The next day we had our YMCA organized baseball practice, and the first four batters went through Angel Segui's ritual, sign of the cross and all, before the dumbfounded coach gathered his wits enough to yell at us, telling us to "cut ou t that malarky."

I 3 We never beat up blacks or called any kids nigger where I lived because no blacks lived near us. We lived in a part of Dallas called Highland Park and no blacks were allowed to live there. Of course, there were the maids we'd always see waiting at the bus stop, or the colored

yardmen who kept the lawns mowed and the bushes trimmed, or the guys who worked at the filling station or behind the counter at the ice cream store. But we never really lived with them, the black section was too far away.

I think now that our parents felt too sophisticated to call anybody a nigger or to tolerate us kids doing that. The racism was more hidden and perhaps deeper because the city was so well segregated. The only time we went through the black section was for some game or other at the Cotton Bowl. We would drive through the section-our fathers behinds the wheels of roomy carsand stare at the rows of rotten wood shacks with the paint chipping off, the dirt yards that were sometimes used for parking during big games; and the blacks would always be sitting on their porches, the kids in bedraggled clothing, barefoot and grimy, the adults in old rocking chairs or on porch railings, holding a can of beer, sometimes laughing loudly at hidden secrets, sometimes just watching the parade of cars.

Every year around Christmas-time there was something called The Canpaign at school to collect canned food for the poor black folks in West Dallas. They would keep count of the cans you brought in and post a notice announcing how many cans each class had accumulated. We were always aware that our class was 330 cans ahead of the fifth graders and 220 behind the third graders and so we'd bring in more cans. At the school Christmas party the head of the West Dallas Mission would come and accept the cans, thank us for the food we donated, and bless us for caring about the unfortunates of our great city. Some of us would look at the trees with the star on top and the pile of cans beside it and smile beneficently. We were the class that had won on the last announcement, and that was what mattered.

The Mexican-Americans were no better off than the blacks in Dallas.

Their own section of town was fairly far away from ours, but our family had more contact with them than with the blacks. We were Catholic

and the church we went to, Holy Trinity, had part of its parish in the Mexican section. From kindergarten to fourth grade I went to Sunday Schooland learnedthestrange prayers and suffered the stem, scaring glares of frustrated nuns who were determined to save the souls of the damned children sitting frightened at their desks. But in the fifth grade, some of the boys in the class rebelled. I would hide in the men's room with Manuel Dominguez, Pablo Romon, and Jerry Sanchez.

After the bell had rung and the hallways had cleared, instead of going upstairs to the classroom we would head out to the back alley where a few more had gathered, Johnny Ortiz and Hernando Smith~ and even Robert Flohr who lived near me.

Hernando pulled out a pack of cigarettes and passed them around. I nearly got sick, both from the smoke and from the excitement of sinning right there on church property. Later we would go shoplift from a 7-11 store across the street, taking candy and girlie magazines which we all looked at in wonderment, trying not to show our obvious curiosity, trying to be as cool as Cisco, who knew everything and already had a mustache.

These kids were different from the ones on my block, but I never thought about it until Pat Flohr, Robert's older brother, asked us why we were hanging around with those greasy spies. He said they were so greasy their tongues start slipping and they can't talk right. He told us that if we kept playing around with them he would tell our parents. So Robert and I convinced our mothers that we weren't going to go to Sunday School at all.

One of the Catholic priests in my parish, Father Hubert, had been a priest in Chicago during the Prohibition. Because most of the mobsters were C~tholic, they spent a lot of time in his church. He was the only priest AI Capone would trust to hear his confessions, and Father Hubert used to joke about his unsuccessful efforts to save Scarface's soul Father Hubert kept a big un-lit cigar in his mouth all the time, except when

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The NewJoumal I March 26, 1975

he was saying Mass, and every sermon started out with a joke or a parable about his hectic days in Chicago. One sermon he usually gave after Christmas points out how easy it is to misunderstand the word of God. Father Hubert told us that he had overheard a gangster trying to describe to some children the story of Joseph's flight into Egypt. The gangster had proclaimed excitedly, "Joseph picks up his wife Mary, the Babe Jesus, and flees.' ' One of the kids asked the gangster if Joseph scratched himself a lot like dogs with fleas, and he realized his mistake.

Later, on that strange day in November, Father Hubert administered last rites to a brief, happy time of hope, when he annointed the shattered head of John F. Kennedy at Parkland Hospital.

4 The State Fair was held every year in Dallas during the last weeks in October. It was billed as "The State Fair of Texas, The Biggest State Fair in the World." We always went to it because there was always a Fair Day, a day when our school let us off and gave each of us a ticket to get through the gates. It was at the fair that I experienced in its totality the confusing cacophony of Texas: its wind-roughened farmers looking over new harvesters; its bow-legged cowboys dangling rolled cigarettes from their lips; the rich cattlemen dressed in embroidered boots and shirts (with pearl snap buttons), usually looking over mountainous prize bulls named Little Boy, Big John, or Sonny Sam; and the negroes, or as they were called earlier, the colored folks, dressed either in subdued, earthy colors with straw hats, or in maroons and golds, ogling the new cars in the Automobile Building. Or

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sometimes you would find them at the Wildlife Building where there was a shallow pool filled with catfish, perch, and bream. If you paid twenty-five cents you could fish in it for three minutes with bamboo poles.

Every now and then somebody would whoop with delight after catching his Sunday dinner. I spent enough quarters to fill up Turtle Creek, but I never had a nibble.

There were penny arcades with pinball machines and teenaged hustlers. There were cotton candy stands, pecan pie booths, Dr. Pepper and Frito carts-all of them surrounded by masses of children, every fourth one crying. But the best part of the fair, the most crowded and most fun, was the Midway. Barkers with home-fried accents would get you to put down a quarter on the spinning wheel, or pitch three baseballs at weighted bowling pins, or show your strength by swinging a sledge ~1ammer and ringing a bell.

And, of course, there were the freak shows where for a slim dime you could see the bearded lady, a horse smaller than a dog, a dog with five legs, and Siamese twins. There was something scary and fetid about the side shows and sometimes I would skip them altogether. But if one of my friends boasted that he was going there, all of us kids would fall in line behind the over-ailed farmers chewing straws, pay our dimes and walk in. If we hadn't, we'd have been called chickens for the next two weeks.

This conglomeration of people was Texas in the late fifties and early sixties. Every part and type of Texas was represented. The hicks rubbed against the city folk, the cowboys against the oilmen, the colored against the white, all proud to be there, to be a part of Texas for those two weeks. And when it finished they would all return to their respective places: the cowboys back to the Staked Plains, the oilmen to their office buildings, the blacks and Mexicans to their shacks, the whites to their stone and brick houses, and the barriers between them would seem impregnable for another year.

At the entrance and exit to the fair stood Big Tex, a four-story, bluejeaned cowboy with a huge Stetson on his head and with a deep, slow recorded voice that broadcast pleasantries and messages. Sometimes his mechanical insides would get out of synch and his mouth would flap open and shut a few times and then shut for good as a booming soliloquy emerged, sounding like the voice of God gushing from the heavens. If any of us ever got lost or separated from the group, we'd always meet back at Big Tex. Because of his voice, his height, his bigness, I was never too far away from his presence.

Without rambling into the obvious, without expounding what Big Tex symbolizes for me even today, it is enough to know that he'd always manage to belch while I was leaving: " Y'all come back, ya heah."

as the Swenson Land and Cattle Co., the second biggest ranch in the state.

Eighty people now own it, aU descended from Svante. Some of them We were deeply aware of Texas are fourth cousins who live in New history while growing up, and the War for Independence inspired many York and Boston. Others still live on and operate the ranch. monuments. There was the Alamo Every now and then Dad would for one, and by the time we reached high school, we had all traveled with pack us in the station wagon, and drive four hours across North-Cenone class or another to San Antonio to see it. When I was about six years tral Texas to the ranch. Along the way we'd pass towns called Weatherold, every kid on the block had a ford, Abilene, Stamford, and Throckcoonskin hat and a rifle named Betsy. We all died imaginary deaths, morton. They were Southern towns, with an overwhelming Texan outlook surrounded by hundreds of dead Mexicans. Santa Anna, the Mexican that acknowledges no defeat, except when a vengeful God causes the general, was always portrayed as a crops to dry up and the land to blow fat, lazy fool who let his whole army away. get surrounded during a siesta by a daring force of Texans at San Modern Dallas is the sophisticated Jacinto. The monument to commem- city cousin to these prairie towns. orate that victory is the exact height During the Vietnam War it was of the Washington Monument, but harsher, less tolerant, and less forgiving. But that's another chapter, the state government put a star on describing my dealings with the top to make the San Jacinto obelisk draft board as a C.O., being rejected a little bit taller. by old friends because of it, and Along with my pride in Texas, I turned away from old places because was constantly reminded of my family's role in Texas history. My great- my hair was too long. But that is another story, one that says I can't great grandfather, Svante Magnus go home again, at least not to the Swenson, was the first Swedish Dallas I knew, the one I wrote about immigrant in Texas and best friends here, the one I carry around inside. 0 with Sam Houston. With such prestigious 'political connections, Svante put together huge tracts ofland in Chris "Sticks" Swenson is a senior in Central Texas, which became known Davenport College.

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The Images that Remain

by Missy Panzer

Jerry Thompson, Instructor of Photography at the Yale School of Art, teaches Documentary Photography in the graduate school. He also teaches introductory and studio photography to undergraduates. He grew up in Houston, Texas and attended the University of Texas and Johns Hopkins. He received an MFA degree from Yale.

Walker Evans

Subway Portrait 1941

Jerry Thompson is slender, with thick brown hair already laced with silver though he is close to thirty. His eyes are deep brown and large.

We walk from York Street to his studio along the underside of the city, past the State Street garage and the White Tower. In his second story loft, a chair against a white paper backdrop faces a huge box of a camera, a big, black, intimate monster. The rest of the room is bare. The wooden floor shows marks of large machines now vanished. Several tall narrow windows puncture the walls and let in the sun; it is a lazy, bright afternoon.

"You see," he says to me, "I'm getting stable.

There's going to be a darkroom there." He points to an empty space, bordered by high shelves holding bottles of chemicals and yellow boxes of photographic paper. "The camera and lights are set up.

I have a place to bring things."

As yet there are very few things here. A wooden shelf over the radiator holds a coffee pot and thick china mugs. A broom stands in the corner. We sit on two chairs. I look out the window over his shoulder. He looks straight out over the horizon.

"Do you ever think of returning to Houston?" I ask.

"If I did right now, it would be to photograph.

My dream project is to capture in 30 or 60 or 75 images, the essence of a city. And going all over the country, recreate in photographs what it feels like to be in New York, Baltimore, Houston. I know few cities well. But each time I go somewhere new I'm surprised to find it nothing like the places I have been to before. Each city has its own distinct feeling, that much is clear. The question is how to get it down on film.

Walker Evans

Walker Evans

Shoppers, Chicago 1947

Sharecropper, Alabama 1936

"James Agee and Walker Evans captured a tiny comer of the South when they wrote Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. Evans began to do that for many sections of the country. Each series of photographs is great, but they are still incomplete. I'm talking about an all-inclusive piece of work, it would be marvelous if anyone could ever finish it. It would take years. It would take years of walking the streets."

J eny Uelsmann

"I first went to Coney Island with a group ot kids from school. I couldn't wait to get back there, to see the place, to photograph."

Jerry's photographs of people on the island are not meant to mirror the island. If you go there you won't see what is in the pictures. A photograph does not copy an image from real life, it shows what the photographer saw in a particular scene.

Subject matter is important; it makes possible the communication of a certain way of seeing. And New York has a way of making you want to show the other people on the streets what you see.

I am interested in Jerry's opinion of two men whose work I don't quite understand. "A photograph," I begin, "is something more, something other than what was there at the time the photograph was made. But many contemporary photographers don't stop at the enhancement of what you can see. They go on to make images of things that can't be seen at all. Duane Michals does this in sequences of photographs which 'tell stories.'

Jerry Uelsmann makes prints from a combination of negatives to produce dream-like juxtaposed images.''

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The New Journal I March 26, 1975

"Yes," he says and looks away from the room, away from our table into the shadows. "You can do two things in photography. There are those who would make a certain sense of what's real.

Others prefer to make their own 'reality.' I'm more interested in actual things, making something out of what is already there. We all have to work with our own ideas, so in a sense we are all doing the same thing. But it's a question of trying to describe or trying to editorialize, of making little or much of the fact that subjectivity traps us all. " Weegee, a photographer for the New York Daily News made a book called The Naked City.

He was a police photographer and lived a long time in a furnished room right across from the station. He had a radio set and heard the calls as they came in to the desk. He was his own dispatcher, going straight to the action. His photographs were organized according to category-Fires, Murders, Public Events-they weren't fancy pictures. They were straightforward and at the same time infused with his own peculiar way of seeing things." Jerry's face lights up. On h.\s grave mouth a smile glimmers. "For instance, there's a picture of a building on fire. It's a full shot; you can see the jets of water spraying into the smoke.

Weegee

Weegee

The Critic c.l94S

Burning Building c.l94S

W eegee at work

Clouds of steam obscure all but one sentence of a billboard mounted on the side of the building that says "Just add boiling water." We are laughing pretty hard, imagining a building so helpfully arranged for W eegee as he turned the corner.

Jerry continues, "And another page was a picture of a blank piece of film , exposed to light and developed.'' He draws an imaginary rectangle on the table. "The caption reads 'This is a picture of Greenwich Village. It is blank because nothing ever happens there. On another page is a copy of a receipt that reads 'Two Murders-$35,' You see, he has taken two assigned pictures of murders for the News.' But the choice of such an artifact as part of his book shows a very precise sensibility. It's obvious he could immediately register and record his response to such an odd paycheck. His mind must have worked the way his camera works. "There is a very famous picture of him, sitting on a camp stool, typing on a machine in the trunk of his car, with big cameras all around ~feet. He used to type the captions for the photographs before they went back to the News."

We compare ideas about other workers and their vision, adducing an image, picturing the same picture. But he comes back to himself, weighing words carefully, regulating the openness of his eyes. They don't let too much in, he doesn't let too much out. His words are southern accented and softly spoken. The voiced opinions are clear and thought out, ready to be aired. My prepared questions have been anticipated, answered, sometimes dodged, all while I listen. This is nothing like an interview. Imagine instead sitting while the sun goes down, saying what one thinks and dreams, aloud and unabashed.

After a moment, Jerry says to me, "It's necessary to step back to see things. Good photography

The New Journal I March 26, 1975

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requires a certain amount of detachment. Now Yale is even offering a course-Alienation-pass it and you are an artist. You know-A&A- the Alienation and Architecture building. But that's putting the cart before the horse. By affecting a way of doing things you can't have the attitude that leads to the routine. And you can't make yourself be something you're not. With a Herculean effort you could keep it up for six months or a year, or even five years, which isn't very long when you consider how long we have to live. But to keep on doing that thing for 30 years or 50 years, if you're not made to do it, would be impos-

sible. In the end you're going to be a business man if that's what you are to be.

"I didn't start to make photographs seriously till my last year in college. Then when things weren't going well, I'd go into the darkroom, as an escape. When I went to graduate school the darkroom came East with me and I found myself splitting time evenly between photography and study.

I left school to teach in New York. I walked around a lot, looking at people, and took my camera along. That's when I began to save negatives, to look at my work. Three years later I came here."

J eny Tbi:JmpeClll

JenyTbompeon

A thought comes to mind. "Photographs are very powerful things," I say. "I've seen people react very strongly towards them. When I went south to Mexico the Indians wouldn't let their pictures be taken. They were afraid the camera would steal their soul. When I look at some photographs, 1 can't help but agree with those Indians. It is strange to look at faces that are no longer living, that have no names. The artifact, or image has lasted longer than the original. I've heard people make a point about Atget and Paris, for example.

The world he photographed was vanishing. And you photographed the New Haven train station, which is also gone. Does it matter that your images are the only things that remain?"

"I don't think so. That kind of nostalgic meaning only comes atter tne ongma1 has vanished. We now have a special perspective on old pictures, knowing that such a world was about to disappear, but I think it's artificial to impose such a perspective on the photographer. He wasn't necessarily conscious of tha, while it was happening. Now if I were to go out and purposefully photograph 1950 automobiles, that's something else again. I'm much more interested in why I photograph you now. Why do I make a two dimensional image of someone who will still be here tomorrow.

I make something new. I make a photograph.

(untitled) 1972

E.J. BeDocq

(untitled) c.l912

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THE WRITERS

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John Abelson Lori Andrews Jean Benefield Don Block Rosemary Bray Kingman Brewster Jr Irving Burgie Barnaby Conrad Ill Yale Daily News Daniel Denton David Dunlap Joseph Foltz Gonzo //literati Society Laurel Graeber Arthur Greenwald .

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THE THEMES

trace of that fine commencement nostalgia would stir late on my final night at Yale last December, but it would come at the end of a day that seemed more a cruel and comic finale than a Great Beginning.

A

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leven hundred portraits and biographies are to be found in the Senior Classbook, maldng it a comprehensive chronicle of the Class of 1975. What is more, we've added 00 pages to the book this year, greatly increasing our total coverage of Yale College. More than half of the book is now feature material, which includes: 450 photographs, 25 stories and 14 special sections.

E

e will never again cla~ber over a regiment of bodies in front of Brewster's house to proclaim women's victory at Bladderball. We no longer need to suspend a sheet from the window inscribed with IITwo Thousand Female Leaders a Year."

W -.

ur reaction was to request saliva tests for half their team; we just didn't believe that jerseys could make that much difference. Hardly daunted, we skated onto the ice to the cheers of a few loyal fans and fought our way bravely to an 11-3 loss.

O â&#x20AC;˘

ther things about Yale, as opposed to St Ignatius High, dismayed me - such as the fact that: 1 ) girls don't exactly love football players here and 2) neither does anyone else.

O

remember figuring that a Yale education was costing me $17.98 per class hour," said a woman from Morse.

"The thought of skipping classes made me physically ill."

I

an black people afford the luxury of creativity?

Many voice the opinion that those of us ~~fortunate" enough to attend a school like Yale should be devoting all our time to more serious pursuits, instead of writing, acting or painting. We who are genuinely concerned ver in Dillon Fieldhouse, about our contribution to tiny Milt Holt, "the other blacks are deeply hurt Pineapple," was putting by the question. a lei over Pat ¡Mel nally's head. In strides Ted Kennedy. Light bulbs pop. And so does just about every blood vessel in my brain.

C

O

looked around, and saw terror spread over the faces of my fellow beer bottles.

There were screams all around us. I knew we had to get out before we were trampled.

I

o be a recluse at Yale is not to go for weeks without seeing a familiar face; it is merely to have no relationships that make demands on one or that one can make demands on.

T

o drink at Yale means to be social. Rather than say, ''Let's go talk somewhere,'' one says, "Let's go get a drink somewhere." Also, to drink at Yale almost always means to get drunk, or at least a little bit sloshy.

T

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he fact that I am a married woman puts me at ease with men. There are none of the overt or covert intentions that often restrict a male-female relationship.

T

ig Parade of Handsome Habitats: wherein we reveal the five best rooms of Yale College [hint: they're in Branford, Saybrook, Davenport (2), and Stiles] and visit 18 other student domiciles worth living in.

B

â&#x20AC;˘â&#x20AC;˘

alies lack style. This winter, Gigi packed in an audience that applauded and giggled through the showing and walked out sighing over the elegance of Paris with nowhere to go but Naples Pizza. As I left, a scruffy-looking boy ahead of me, who was once a zealous participant in the Yale Workers' Strike, turned to his date and said, 1wish I had a top hat and ate at Maxim's."

I almost laughed aloud.

V

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1

andidate in protective life-support headgear explores the contaminated expanse of the "Cross Campus Library," believed to have housed the rare BiblioTexts. No evidence of the precious artifacts could be found on the shelves of the "Library" but popular myth has it that in pre-Conflict years, candidates were not required to return Yunicorp texts to the lending source.

C

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e said to our Publisher, "This is the best damned Banner in thirty-five yearsl" He was not impressed. "Dunlap," he said, "are you living in a broom closet? The economy has collapsed. I'm ordering the shortest press run I possibly can." "But... " we adamantly persisted. "But nothing," he sneered, "1750 copies will sell at most or I'm a monkey's uncle."

With our limited math ability, we figured it out: 1300 copies for the Seniors, 200 copies for University offices, departments, libraries and alumni -that leaves 250 books for 3900 other students in the College. If you arrive at the same figure, it will dawn upon you that speed is essential in placing your order. When 251 people want Banners, it'll be tant pis for all of us. But at least we'll have the satisfaction of buying our Publisher a banana.

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ail the card below today, along with your check or money order and then watch for the Yale Banner aeroplane to make its appearance in Elm City skies, heralding the arrival of this year's book. That event will take place sometime in late April.

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The New Journal I March 26, 1975

page9

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"The story of the train station pictures doesn't end there. The lady in charge of preserving the station called me up after the pictures were published in the Yale Alumni Magazine, and said that the organization would like a print of the station. in case they ever rebuild it, they would then know how to proceed. They want to project a copy from a projection of the original. They want to make a projection from a projection. That's all a photograph is-projection of light onto a sensitive surface."

Light is reflected off disorganized space. The person controlling the light, by means of a camera, organizes the space, framing it in a certain way. I use my ear and pen and paper the same way Jerry uses a camera and light, to select an image. That way of framing something, or taking a picture, can be very individual. Someone once said Cariter Bresson's pictures followed him around. Maybe so, the way he organizes space goes with him wherever he goes.

"Irving Penn came to speak to the graduate students," I say, "and mentioned he enjoyed photographing for Vogue because the.man behind the camera was just as important to the oroduct as the things in front of the camera. Do you think that's true?"

Jerry nods. "It's especially true about much of the photography he does, which is in a studio.

His photographs are arranged. Nothing is before the camera until he puts it there. Studio work is very similar to painting. You start with a blank canvas and build it up, arranging things in two dimensional space.

"The photography I'm doing is of a different kind. I think it comes out of the portraits of Bellocq, or Brady. They were documentary portraits.

Lee Friedlander

New Orleans 1968

"The camera is big and heavy. It is very obvious, not the 35mm kind that hides in your hand.

Your subject knows you are taking his picture. He has to stand still, because the exposures are long, lasting several seconds. It's different from the fractions of a second we are used to. ''When I began using these cameras, I was on the ctetenstve. Most people were using fast lenses, fast film, capturing smaller and smaller slices of time. They considered the older methods obsolete.

I was lucky to get this camera. I was bidding against someone who wanted it for a planter. 'â&#x20AC;˘young people in the sixties began to explore what might be called "Frank's idiom" -looking at American life as frozen seconds, fleeting images grabbed in out-of-the-way places. Hundreds of photographers have taken countless numbers of candid pictures during the last fifteen years, so the idiom seems depleted to many of us. We start to look at today's world with old tools, and the result is a new idiom, different from nineteenth century pictures because we live in a different time and because the tools have been refined.

In a few years this idiom will no doubt be depleted for a while, and many people will turn to something else. ''John Szarkowski, as curator of photography at the Museum of Modern Art, has helped tremendously in bringing nineteenth century pictures to light. He has educated people about that kind of photography. All we had seen for years was the 35mm work of people like Cartier-Bresson, Robert Frank or (more recently) Lee Friedlander. Maybe it's time to see where we've been.

"If you want to see how the camera works, I'd

Robert Frank

Political Rally, Chicago 1956

"I use the same kind of camera that they work with. It make a large negative. The prints are contact prints, made by placing the negative next to the paper and shining a light on it. The images are not enlarged.

like to take your picture, while you're here."

He moves to the camera as I put down my pen.

We take our places on either side of the large black box. Now I can see its white glass eye, and wonder what I look like from the other side. On my left is a slice of corridor, ahead the tripod and flash are waiting. To my right is a blank white wall and in front of me, the glassy impassive stare of the camera. "Okay look at the camera, hold it,

good." His hand reaches forward to close down

the lens, the white eye grows smaller. Another hand slides a glass plate into place. "Look at the camera." The light flashes. "All right." I dip down my head to clear the stars from my eyes.

When I look up, the white eye is wide and ready.

I frown and slide down on the shiny wood chair.

The camera shifts, I move. It moves, I move and look up, defiant. The flash goes, blinding and harsh. And again the eye faces me, open and inquiring, unrelenting. I forget my face and stare back, patiently, looking at the camera very hard.

Hands flutter at the edge of my sight, turning hot bulbs and sliding film. We are conversing silently and intensely. "That's all." I thought his voice would break the spell. But as we move into the next room, I can' t resist looking back over my shoulder, to see if that glass stare has followed us.

If it did, I was too slow to see. I don't know if the film carried a piece of my soul away, as the Mexicans believe. It has grabbed a slice of time, flat and focused on the film. "I'll get a print back to you." And I will have the slice returned, transformed into something I can hold.

I owe Jerry a different kind of transformation.

Out of time I grab our words. They return sorted and shuffled into a legible document of the afternoon. We both weld onto paper an otherwise transient piece of time. And somewhere it's written that for a thousand words a picture is fair exchange. O

Missy Panzer is a junior in Morse College.

Walker Evans' photographs appear in Walker Evo.n.s, MU&eum of MO<hm Art Monograph, 1971. Bellocq, Cartier-Bresson, Fra.nk, Friedlander, and Michals appear in Lookin-g at Photograph$ by John Szarkowski.

W eegee photos appear in Nalud City, by Weegee (Arthur Fellig) 1945. Atget ap~ in Hutory of Photography by Beaumont NewhalL Brady from the historical print collec:tion, Library of Congress.

The Yale Hunger Action ProjectWhere It Stands Today

by Bob Liechty

I don't enjoy people telling me that thousands of infants die every day in the world. I don't think I really believe it. Where I come from children usually live to an old age. We have abortions and miscarriages, but that's a different story.

The question that bothers me is why do people starve to death?

They don't eat enough, I know. But because I eat more than enough should I feel guilty? I don't enjoy feeling guilty any more than thinking about starving people. I feel guilty because people tell me that I am part of a system that deprives others of food. We have beautiful lawns at the expense of India not having enough fertilizer. Fine. I see the comparison but I also realize that the rice I leave on my plate won't feed a starving infant in India.

I don't like it when guilt forces me to repress my better instincts-when

I feel bad because I think that whatever I do will be too small. "The sad thing is that if one can't take a giant step," said William Sloane Coffin, the Yale Chaplain, "then one won't take any step at all." .

The Yale Hunger Action Project (YHAP) has modest immediate and long-range proposals. They realize that to effect any changes one has to take a series of small steps.

choice to fast on a weekly basis and channel the money through the YHAP. They noted that fertilizer used on Yale lawns could be put to better use in India if the proper distribution agency were found.

They admitted, however, that these last efforts were "at best stopgap measures."

"Yale is inherantly political," the YHAP representative reminded the committee. He cited the political implications involved with Yale's investments in international corporations.

1 I became aware of the YHAP in September when Reverend Coffin asked students, faculty, and administration to come to his office every Friday afternoon to discuss the hunger situation. Even though Coffin started the meetings, many different people have developed as leaders. Perhaps this is what has made the group so strong.

The fast on November 5, 1974, was the first group activity. "Fasting is a A wide range of groups besides small reflection,'' said Coffin. It gave ¡ the YHAP spoke before the comthe students a chance to sacrifice mittee, underlining the broad consomething and unified them around cern with world hunger. ECHOE, a a common act.

Boston-based group representing universities, ecological groups, busBut if some people coalesced around the fast others became irriinesses, and private citizens, solicited tated because of it. "The major oppo- Yale's support. Chuck Powers, a sition that I found collecting signaprofessor at the Yale Divinity tures for the fast," said Charlie School, spoke on the ethics of relief.

Homer '76, "was the reaction, 'You !\nother group advocated reforms in people are trying to make us feel Connecticut's school lunch program. guilty. I'm willing to give money but Alan Berg, author of The NutriI'm not willing to make a committtkm Factor, who spoke at Yale ment.' I said, we appreciate your earlier this year, wrote a letter to the signing up.''

Marshall Committee saying that he The Yale Hunger Action Project was impressed by what he saw and doesn't expect everyone to commit hoped that this interest would push themselves to work on the Project.

Yale graduates into professional The YHAP serves its purpose if fields they had conspicuously people become sensitive to the avoided.

Albert Dobie, head of Yale Dining hunger situation.

Hall services, submitted a letter of On February 27, a cQmmittee support for meatless alternatives. appointed by President Brewster He.opposed a move to force vegand headed by Burke Marshall, a Law School professor, held their first etarian meals on students but said he would cooperate with efforts to open hearing to consider an official raise funds through dining hall actiYale response to world hunger. The vities. Dobie was impressed with the YHAP formally presented their honesty of students during the Novgoals,written by David O'Connor ember 5 fast. "In fact," he said, '75, before this committee. The pro"more people fasted than signed up. posals suggested the creation of a curriculum that would stress specific Students have changed from previous years." issues related to hunger: nutrition, "I've gotten calls from literally world finance, agricultural advanceevery part of the country asking ments, food distribution, and land what we're doing here," Dobie reform. They suggested that the added. He doesn't think that fasting summer term in 1976 have as its axis the world hunger problem. They is a fad-rather, it reflects a concern spontaneously developed in various proposed that Yale encourage students on leave of absence, about eight colleges-one that "will be here to percent of the student body, to spend stay."

But Dobie recognizes that the time on development projects in dining halls' greatest effect comes Third World countries. The YHAP from educating the students. If stualso discussed the few graduate dents learn to eat better-waste less school courses offered in the area food, stop overeating, and use less of world hunger. meat (which releases grains The YHAP suggested to the consumed by cattle for human use)Marshall Committee that the dining then the dining halls will have a halls provide students with the lasting effect on a student's life. option of meatless meals and the

The New Journal I March 26, 1975

The Marshall Committee hearing provided a forum to air positions and opinions of various groups, but the work and planning occurred elsewhere.

page 11

The NEHAA met in New Haven on March 15 and passed the following positions regarding "Food Day," planned for April 17.

1- Every individual has the

2 .lj

The YHAP divided itself into five sub-committees to investigate an inter-college network, an intracollege organization, research, speakers, and long-range planning.

The intra-college task force, headed by Pam Kohlberg '75, conducted the "Catalytic Dollar for Education" canvass, instituted recycling programs, and organized three Monday night fasts during March. As the residential colleges realized their potential they asked groups, such as the Free Food Council of New Haven, to assign particular colleges a specific relief program within New Haven.

The task force contacted the Yale Daily Ne ws and the New Haven J oumal-Courier and asked them to run a " neediest cases" series like the series in the New York Times.

The YHAP realized that relief money does make a difference and that their efforts could change the attitude of students. But they also saw, as did Boyce Rensberger in the New York Times, "that the limiting factor is the strength and will of leaders in government and finance to make food production and distribution matters of high national and international priorities." Therefore, the YHAP conducted a letter writing campaign to begin the slow process of influencing politicians.

Right to a proper diet and adequate food supply.

2- Corporate policy and wasteful consumption habits can not be allowed to violate this Right.

3- To insure this Right, the world's existing resources must be distributed more equally.lf so distributed, the world's resources can feed everybody. Historically, population growth stabilizes with social equality, economic development, and adequate food supply.

4- The world hunger problem is a matter of jus tice and not charity. · Food must not be used as a polical weapon.

5- We recognise that the food crisis is not an isolated phenomenon but one manifestation of a pattern of gross inequality in the distribution of wealth, both within nations and between nations.

The YHAP sponsored a series of speakers at Yale who exposed students to current thoughts and theories about the hunger problem.

Five speakers have already visited and the sixth, Brad Morse, Under Secretary-General of the United Nations will speak in March.

3

New Haven Hospital, Fairhaven Ministry, which is located ten miles northeast of Yale, and Fish, which has no neighborhood center but delivers food to the homes of people in emergency situations - such as people who have been mugged or had their rent, utilities, or fuel rates raised beyond their means.

Christian Community Action fed over 150 families in January, not on a full time basis but only when the families couldn't last on their insufficient welfare checks.

Fish delivered meals to 1,300 people- or about 260 families - in January. In September when the heating bill was lower and inflation less severe, they fed only 76 families. " Connecticut is a wealthy state," said Bob Martin, the only paid person in Fish, a group maintained by 200 volunteers. "But the welfare system is screwed to begin with.

And this winter was bad."

"For instance," added David Nehring from the Christian Community Action group, "if a person only has $45 yet has a certificate from the State to let him buy $50 of food stamps he can't buy any stamps unless he has the whole $50. That's where we help. " And there were other sources of money besides the fast. When Tom W eiskel, a Yale English professor, died on December 1 the family asked for contributions to hunger reliefinstead of flowers - to commemorate Mr. Weiskel's life. These people donated $1,100.

The Symphony Orchestra, Russian Chorus, Yale Band, and people interested in Jazz volunteered concerts to publicize the YHAP and raise money.

On his own initiative John Espy '76, collected books and asked Mr. Whitlock, of Whitlock Books on Broadway Avenue, to sell them. Mr. Whitlock agreed if Espy would price the books so that the project would stay in the hands of students. Prices ranged from ten cents to a few dollars. Books came from solicitations at Dwight Hall, Battell Chapel, and the sign in front of the boo!t store.

"I had never thought of this," said Mr. Whitlock. "From the end of November to February 8 we earned $1,062.33. It seems that we've got a sure-fire formula to raise money for whatever you want." (continued on page 14)

To date, the YHAP has collected just under $15,000 through fasts and private contributions. The fast in November amassed $7,173 and the three fasts during March will net AR • ADVENT • AVID • CREATIVE • ESS • ST t' X • DBX $3,100.

Each student who fasted on • PIONEER • TEAC • GARRARD • EMPIRE • PHILIPS November 5 designated where he or •. PHASE LINEAR • MARK LEVINSON • QUATRE • DUAL she wanted the rebate to go. AFRO, a Yale group, received $2,941 • BIC • JBL • KLH • MICRO-ACOUSTIC • SHERWOOD • and sent the money to the Inter• JENSEN • EPI • TEMPEST • MAGNEPAN • SONY • TANDstate Committee for Relief in the BERG • NAKAMICHI • OYNACO • MAGNEPLANAR (AVON ONSahel-a U .N. food relief project.

The Free Food Council in New LY) • KENWOOD • MARANTZ • SANSUI • AUDIO RESEARCH Haven distributed $2,291 worth (AVON ONLY) • SUPERSCOPE • BSR • BEYER • SEQUERRA of food to people who couldn' t pay for both heat and food. The TECHNICS • ADC • AUDIO TECHNICA • ELECTRO-VOICE • AKG Bible Medical Society transfered the SUPEX • ACCUPHASE • CROWN • SAE • HARMON-KAROON • remaining $1,941 for food and medical aid in Bangladesh.

A second group in the YHAP • FIDELITY RESEARCH • PICKERING • KOSS • SHURE • REVOX The YHAP donated the $3,100 began to coordinate Yale's activities • MIRACORO • OOKORDER• GRADO • ORTOFON • INFINITY• PE collected in the March fasts to with those of other universities. the Free Food Council.

Early in the Headed by Stefan Pressor ' 76, and Bob Tate, an assistant chaplain, this winter, FFC received hundreds of calls a week for food but had none group sent fact sheets, position to distribute. True, the money sent papers, and bibliographies to 250 to people in New Haven didn't go to major universities. They now have a people dying in Africa, but it did aid mailing list of 100 schools that many who might develop eye exchange information and ideas. In an effort to organize Northeastern diseases and other ailments resulting colleges into a coherent political base from deficient diets. "Besides," added Coffin, "one doesn't have to apolostudents from Tufts, Harvard, and gize for small acts of mercy."

Yale called colleges to a meeting in SPRINGFIELD (Mus.) FAIRFIELD CNTY. WATERBURY Boston on February 15. Thirty colFour groups compose the Free 195 Tun:oc:is Hill Rd .

1835 Wilbrahilm Rd .

43 Meri den Rd . leges formed the Northeast Hunger Food Council: Christian Union, 782-7111 366-5246 757-9296 Action Alliance (NEHAA) and which serves the area behind PayneNEW HAVEN EAST HARTFORD AVON pledged to inform each other of ideas Whitney gymnasium, Christian 1 533 Stille St. 1071 Burnside Ave .

216 West Millin St . developed at their respective colCommunity Action, which works in 678-1797 787·0183 528-9479 leges. the Hill neighborhood near the Yale-

CHOOSE!

TltERE's ONly ONE PlAcEYouCAN!

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E

Blue Butterflies with Razor Beaks

by JohnS. Rosenberg

Here at the New Yorker, by Brendan Gill. Random House. $12.95

Yet Gill is disingenuous, even wicked. For Here at The New Yorker presents not the whole of the magazine, but only its past, on which our parents and professors cut their "My intention is to follow the printeeth. The magazine's past stands to ciple upon which the 'Talk of the Town' department of the magazine is its present as theY ale of Brendan Gill's college years is to Yale today: based: I will try to cram these paragraphs full of facts and give them a behind the aristocratic facade and posturing of each institution lay weight and shape no greater than that of a cloud of blue butterflies." much unhappiness and cruelty.

An admirably lucid statement of pur- Today the magazine's reporters dispose, and no wonder: for the subject sect much that is cruel in our society, of this book is The New Yorker, a just as the current Yale questions magazine we admire for its precise the presumptions of many of its and vigorous writing; and its author graduates. Though dressing it up, is Brendan Gill, a "lifer" at the mag- Gill opens the magazine's past to the same treatment. Those leisurely azine, who through his millions of swarms of blue butterflies conceal words has contributed much toward bringing it to excellence. The book is razor beaks and sharp talons. his present to the magazine on its Brendan Gill, by his account, fiftieth birthday. leads-and always has led-an almost insufferably happy life. It is this which so marks him from his colleagues at The New Yorker.

"Happy writers have histories shorter even than happy families," Gill writes. In his case this is true because of his demonstrable happiness; but too many of his colleagues lived terribly short lives, mostly without any happiness at all. The magazine is wise to protect its stars from the public eye, for they are a wretched lot of misfits; now that Gill has by his zeal interrupted their "daily naps," we are forced to pick through the laundry, trying to match these maimed people to the brilliance of their clothes.

Gill's youth fit nicely the purposes of the magazine under its founder, Harold Wallace Ross. The New Yorker was to be a journal for dandies, dedicated to the night club life of the 1920's. Ross, a comfortable bigot, thirsted for facts, for style, for graceful cocktail chatter. Upon discovering that the Vienna phone company played an "A" for its customers who wanted to tune their instruments, Ross assigned a reporter to call the number overseas, and to write it up. Brilliant reporting, about trifles. In a New Yorker this February, some other faceless writer called up the New York Times' computer typesetting equipment, to report on the sharp "F" it sang into the tele¡ phone. The more things change ...

Gill began his career among writers. Pampered through babyhood and prep school by a rich doctor father in Hartford, in the company of Wallace Stevens and Yeats, Gill landed at Yale. In his senior year he edited the centennial edition of the Yale Lit and was a Bones man.

Brash, he burst out laughing when Robert Frost recited the word "bones" during a reading of "The Witch of Coos" in Pierson. Frost icily terminated his readi.n g, and his visit to Yale. Gill got over his embarrassment and finished his senior year easily when his English tutor blew his brains out.

Undaunted by the sordidness of the adult world, Brendan married upon graduation, and his father gen-

erously set the young couple up with a Connecticut farm, and gave them a honeymoon tour of Europe, much of it in the company of theYale Glee Club. After a performance by the Whiffenpoofs in Munich, "it appeared that Hitler had found 'To the Tables Down at Mory's' especially endearing, and he congratulated J. Merrill Knapp, the chief Whiff.

and first editor of The New Yorker.

"I have always held it against Knapp," Gill says, "that at that moment he didn't leap upon Der Fuhrer and strangle him to death with his bare hands, thereby, at the expense of a single human life-his own, to be sure-preventing the outbreak of the Second World War." This is Gill's sole political reflection in the book, and possibly in his life; significantly, Gill thinks of the episode in terms of strangling- the work of the hands-and never in terms of words or writing, his truest weapons against all the Hitlers in the world if he had cared to use them.

Home again, in the late 1930's, Gill wrote up a thinly fictionalized account of meeting Sinclair Lewis, a friend from the days of compiling the centennial Lit, in a Hartford theater.

The New Yorker accepted it, and its author joined the magazine for life, with only one interlude.

What a life it has been, amidst the congenitally slovenly, misshapen offices of The New Yorker. Nothing was ever thrown away or cleaned up: painters painted around Thurber's graffiti on the hall walls; papers accumulated in offices of a galaxy of writers, who "tend to be lonely, mole-like creatures, who work in their own portable if not pleasant darkness and who seldom utter a sound above a groan." They whined and connived against one another, consuming themselves in jealousy, alcohol, and their life-long-but short-lived-unhappinesses. How they complained, from Ross angered about the "coons" moving near his country house, to Thurber, delighting in making John O'Hara hate Gill and the magazine. Brilliance in writing, disaster in living.

We see Shirley Jackson and her husband, Stanley Hyman, snuffing out their lives: ¡having stuffed them-

The New Journal I March 26, 1975

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page 13

STUDENT PREVIEWS BEGIN APRIL 2

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selves over breakfast, they summon est shadows and yet manages to the waiter, not for a check, but to make us laugh." Though Gill's book conforms to this spirit, portraying order the same meal all over again.

Gill brings us a historic confrontathe miniature tragedies of his stunning associates, his contribution falls tion between Edmund Wilson and A.J. Liebling: "Each of them liked far short of Shawn's.

Shawn introduced significant to talk and each wished to talk at the other man but not with him. Liebling intellectual content into the magalaunched out on an extended aria, to zine, slapping it out of the diversions which Wilson affected to listen; in of the 1920's. "Better than any other reality, he was simply watching editor of our time, he has been able to Liebling's chest and waiting for the measure the distance of our national moment when Liebling would have fall from grace; better than any to stop talking in order to draw other, he measures today the difficulty of regaining that grace." : breath. The moment came at last, and Wilson leapt with a torrent of Today Shawn accomplishes this words into the momentary gap ... self-appointed task with a new stable what made the battle all the more of writers, who make The New Yorkremarkable was that neither oppon· er a political journal. It is the measent relinquished the tiniest part of ure of Gill's world that he excludes his hold on his own topic of conver· this new generation of writers.

Where is Richard Rovere, whose pen sation. Wilson, who was then at the height of his interest in the Dead Sea slashed Joe McCarthy? And Richard Scrolls, roared on contentedly about Harris, exposer of Congress and the their significance, while Liebling erosion of civil liberties? What of Jonathan Schell and the devastated mumbled on contentedly about a favorite figure of his, the learned Vietnamese villages, and Rachel sportsman Colonel Stingo."

Carson with the ravished birds, and James Baldwin's ghetto? Gill knows A remarkable battle between Liebling the food critic, but ignores titans, each phrase finely turned, Liebling the press critic; he takes us each thought clear; but did Wilson and Liebling thus advance the world, to the race track with "Audax Minor," but not to City Hall with or their own understandings, at all?

Was there more in this thrashing and Andy Logan, nor down Wall Street hacking out at each other than the with John Brooks.

It was Shawn who persuaded Ross struggle of naked intellects, too frail to devote an entire issue to John to admit the presence of another?

Hersey's Hiro shima. Shawn cultivated Thomas Whiteside's investigations of defoliants and cigarette advertising, and established the trenchant political comment which now begins most "Talk of the Town" sections. Shawn expanded the maga· zine so that it blends E.B. White's letters from Maine and Paul Brodeur's chronicle of asbestoscaused cancers. He has mixed Calvin Trillin's comments on chili with stories of oil spills and pesticides. He has led and educated his readers. · Where was Gill? Still detached, reviewing movies and now the theater. Gill, loving Shawn too much, understood him and his work- the two are the same- too William Shawn, Rou's SucalSOr little. as editor.

This delicious book - tangy and coy, as vibrant on every page as The Gill partied his way through his New Yorker- is a monument to friends' lives of misery much as he times past, when manners concealed must have partied at Yale, oblivious passions. They are not the manners of the Depression outside. Yet at all which we value today, nor which The these parties, the men and women of New Yorker's pages have embodied The New Yorker never broke down for the past decade. Much of Gill's its coldness. Some members of the way of life is gone, and I am glad he magazine worked side by side for so enjoyed it. I appreciate this book, years,withoutspeaking,without not for the things he values, but for making introductions beyond a their contrast to our own beliefsmemorable-and, one suspects, as a fine antique. In letting us underhardly unique- "Fuck you!" stand how he has lived, Gill helps us How much of life Gill misses at all those parties! Gill dedicates his book to understand better-and to liketo William Shawn, editor of The New the distance we have travelled from that past. How far we have come YorkersinceJanuary 1952, soon from those people there at The New after Ross's death, soon before most Yorker.O of my generation was born. "For more than twenty years it has been Shawn's fate to edit a humorous magazine that, holding up a mirror John Rosenberg is a senior in to life, everywhere reflects the dark- · Silliman Colkge.

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a Fast-a-thon whereby merchants paid a dollar per hour for a fasting student . "A few week s prior to t hat these stu dents were hardly talking abou t the hunger situation," said Bob T ate, a Yale speaker who visited Manchester . Spontaneou s efforts have an effect.

Most of President Ford's mail for the months of December and Janu ary concerned t h e world hunger situation. Approximately 90 percent favored increased U.S. relief aid.

Organizations from all over the Many experts agree that the precountry have coordinated a Food sent world food situation represents Day on April17 to illustrate a new a true crisis. The word " crisis" origi- feeling that food, as well as oil, is a nated from the medical term-a valuable resource. turning point in a fever. Doctors The Yale Hunger Action Project knew that the body must work to does not stand alone in its concern. overcome a disease and if the fever With the proper vision Yale could did not abate the patient would die. educate scholars, trouble shooters, The world 's industrial fever will last and planners in the field of hunger. until man, hopefully, realizes that For lawyers, this may entail changprogress means slowing down. ing the practices of international "This is a spiritual revolution as companies -lawyers can advise great as that which led to the advent when (and for how much) a company of Christianity," said the anthroshould sell its foreign interests back pologist Claude Levi-Strauss. A to indigenous groups. People in change like this takes many years. multinational corporations have to The highest hopes of the YHAP see, and some of them do, that the would be to influence Yale students food crisis is not an isolated phenowho may one day work in busimenon. The profit and progress of nesses or government positions that these companies come at the exaffect world affairs. pense of people in developing coun"There are 300,000 persons in the tries .

U.S. who have signed petitions sayOn a different level, a student ing they're willing to eat less to feed could use his talents to work for the hungry and the undernourorganizations such as Oxfam or ished-this is the people speaking, " CARE. said Herbert Walters, the Chairman The burden of the world hunger of theWorld Hunger Action problem rests not on the United Coalition.

States nor on the developing counThe fast day organized by Oxfam tries: it rests on everyone. Each (a world relief organization centered nation has to p roduce its resources in London) on November 21 of last as effectively as possible. The United year included 400 universities and States, because of its technological 500 church and community groups. and agricultural advances, can afford Students at Grinnel College in to release some of its citizens to Grinnel, Iowa, have a weekly hunger coordinate efforts throughout the newspaper and invite speakers regu- world. People m u st develop a world larly to the college. They have initioverview; t he problem of world hunated seminars on the subject and on ger is not restricted to particular February 15 devoted five days to dis- regions or particular people-ulticuss what the students at Grinnel mately it affects everyone. 0 College could do.

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The New J oumal I March 26, 1975

page 15

(continued from page 2) We changed the 1970 categories of Only the cars on the streets, perhaps, Male and Female contraception into offer a clue. And just as well-for sections on prescription and nonthis is where you come to forget. It is prescription methods of contracepa place uniquely suited for people tion. having affairs, for relationships that Before we began to write we met are frowned on by somebody else, or with our medical advisor, Dr. Phillip somewhere else, for partners meeting Sarrel, a gynecologist-obstetrician partners among a crowd grown and sex counselor at Yale's Health Service. We were astonished at how familiar weekend after weekend. In much had changed in the past four the refrigerated darkness, all unions seem like a still shot from a longyears: the Pill is no longer a wonder silent, long-forgotten movie. There is drug, IUD's are now safe for women who have never been pregnant, new no eroticism, but only the extreme pregnancy tests have been develvoluptuousness of relaxing the will no<'d. and million~ of men have had and submitting oneself to a scene that seems already to have occurred. vasectomies.

A wise man has said, "If you can' t Editing copy proved exhausting.

We preferred to write in the active make it at the Snow Chicken, you tense, but often found this imposcan't make it anywhere.'' This, I sible. The sections on contraception trust, is an exaggeration. The Snow were especially difficult, because we Chicken, is a whole world; its rule of ·were describing passive devices used ritualized flirtation is uncannily severe. like the sequence of events in by active people.

We were surprised by more subtle a bad dream two nights running, and a sure shoot-down awaits anyone flaws. Many sections used second person address: "If you forget to who looks strange, dances strange, take your pill," "If you think you are or talks strange. On the outside, fallpregnant." The language assumes ing in love may mean finding out readers to be heterosexual and about yourself. Here, you make out female. The editors spent one horwhen you're a good snow chicken. 0 rible night changing "you" to "he or Bob Sternbach she" and "your" to "her or his," making the book more impersonal, Bob Sternbach is a graduate but more objective. student in the English Department.

Extended objectivity made us giddy. Simple situations became ridiculous. For example, "If your Editing my f"rrst [sex] book condom has burst ... " A woman may feel this doesn't apply to her, that When women came to Yale in the fall the clause should be read "If a man of 1969, sex came out in the open. thinks his ... '' The condom then Sex and the Yale Student was an becomes the responsibility of the information booklet prepared in 1970 man, and not the couple. Using " your" (in the plural sense) would 'and put in each ensuing freshman rectify this, but might offend those packet. This year a committee of who don't use condoms. "If the coneleven students rewrote the 'sex book' and titled it Sex at Yale. Bobbi dom bursts" avoids confusion and places blame on the device or its Mark, co-chairperson of the committee and co-editor of the book, reflects inspector.

We resolved to omit all references on the task of editing the controverto promiscuity and were successful, sial guide. except in the section on homosexuality. There we discuss promiscuity What began as a revision of Sex and fidelity, things never mentioned and the Yale Student became a elsewhere in the book. Had any major task of rewriting. We wanted homosexual served on the committo avoid the heterosexual bias of the tee, I suspect this moralizing would original, so we added sections on have been detected. masturbation and homosexuality.

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The preface and introduction to the book establish an attitude toward sex, and give meaning to the data which follows. The book emphasizes that fulfillment of this fundamental human need can be highly rewarding.

Sex is a much discussed, often practiced and too often confusing issue at Yale. For many students, their time at Yale is significant in their. development as sexual beings. Freshmen faced with the newness and strangeness of college life, also find themselves pressured into confronting sexual decisions. People in every class find that interpersonal relation-. hips ar(' affected by the Yale situa t ion h~· ov('n·rowding. acedemic pressure, the male-female ratio, dorm living, and dining hall eating. Many Yalies claim that there is too much sex on campus, others say there is too little. Some say nothing. Most feel very confused.

We, the authors of this book, are typical of Yale students in that we, too, have questions. It would be nice if the book had the answers. Of course it doesn't. But, we hope that by writing this book and sponsoring the sexuality course, we can bring some of the issues into the open and help people to share feelings , problems, and pleasures with others.

never seen an erect penis and to men and women who have never seen a woman's external sexual organs.

Dr. Sarrel also thought that the pictures were educational. However, he voted against them because he felt they might upset some students and shock some alumni. Both were valid objections. But the pictures manifest the openess advocated in the book. We were trying to dispel, not perpetuate, ignorance and myth.

For weeks we explored the pros and cons of using the pictures. A large majority of the committee always voted in favor of the photographs. Yet many "yes" votes were uncertain. We had nothing concrete on which to base our predictions of how the pictures would be accepted.

Very few sex manuals have been printed and none contain photographs of sex organs. The committee that wrote Sex and the Yale Student gambled by publishing the book.

Four years later, we felt that we were taking a comparable risk.

During the debate, numerous outsiders became involved-the printer, members of the Yale administration, doctors at the health center, lawyers, reporters and editors of The New York Times. This exaggerated the importance of the pictures. The members of the committee who were vehement about keeping the pictures fought for something more than the photographs. We upheld the principles stressed in the book. IndirectThe original pamphlet contained ly we promoted the equality of small photographs of contraceptive women. Most objections involved devices and stone sculptures. Follow- the picture of the male. Nude photoing the tone of our introduction, we graphs of women have always been decided to omit the statues and available and acceptable. include pictures of people. We The indecision proved exasperatresolved to intersperse the photoing and destructive. I felt pulled graphs throughout the book, breakbetween my co-editor who was very ing the expanse of technical informa- emotional and defen~ive about the tion. pictures, and other people (whom I Including photographs turned out respected) who were against using to be as problematic as editing the them. I was numb-almost indiffertext. We wanted pictures of people ent-from months of talking and who looked comfortable with each writing about sex and the clinical other. One couple was willing to pose and unemotional aspects of birth nudt>. w (' ~hot them from the shouldcontrol and anatomy. It became clear ers up. The editors coerced reluctant that making a decision was more friends into being photographed. important than what that decision Most pictures were of heterosexual was. We decided to use the pictures. couples, it was much more difficult As editors, we were tired of taking t " fi n d two men or two women who everyone's opinion into considerswould pose together. tion when the decision and responThe photographer included in his sibility for it belonged to us. We proofs a picture of a condom on an began to anticipate that other people ,,..<•n :)('ni~ and another of a diawould be irresponsible or inefficient; phragm being inserted into a vagina. and the committee reprimanded us I hadn't known the pictures had been for not delegating authority. But the taken. Weeks before we had disdemands of an editor are not those of cussed and rejected using pictures of a chairman. We were working on a genitalia in favor of clear, well project with deadlines that had to be labeled diagrams. When I saw the met. When the book was finished we pictures, I was startled. I thought were all exhausted, but grudgingly they were unnecessary, and didn't proud. The warmth and honesty we want them in the book. But almost began with were in the text. And immediately I realized they could be next year's freshman will have a valuable. They displayed people not better idea of what "Sex at Yale" is, afraid to touch themselves or their - or should be. 0 sexual organs. More important, they BobbiMark showed sexual organs- something our excellent diagrams didn't do. We thought the pictures would be espec- Bobbi Mark, a junior in Davenport, co-edited Sex at Yale. ially beneficial to women who have

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