Volume 8 - Issue 6

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Volume eight, numbersixApril25,1975

Yale's First Women Grads: Making It in a ~~Man's'' World ;$..,.,

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TheNewJournal/April25, 1975

TheNewJournal

_____________ cor.nr.nent

Volume eight, number six David Sleeper Editor-in .Chief Stephen Sternbach Manoging Editor Michael Jacobson Executive Editor MarlaSchay Designer Bob Liechty Missy Panzer CarolEliel Associate Editors Jean Benefield Production Editor JimBick Circulation Manager Rick Andelman Photography Robert A. Cohen Business Ma114ger Brian D. Raub Publisher Contributing editors: Daniel Denton Ronald Roel. Stuart Rohrer, Steven R. Weisman, Daniel Yergin Editorial staff: Robert H. Barker, Sandy Lee Business staff: Ginger McCurdy, adverti&ing manager; Angus Gephart, Jon Steinberg, staff Circulation Staff: Jack Ryan, Hugh R. Gross, Eric Kueffner, L. Buck Levin. Roger Morrow, Leo Oren· stein, Asela Russell, Tony Segal, Ed Troncelliti, Rich Banger Viner, John Yandell Credits: Marla Schay-cover & page 15

The New Journal is publis hed by the New Journal at Yale, Inc., partners in publication with the Yale Banner, Inc., and is printed at Chronicle Printing Co., North Haven, Conn.

Distributed free to the Yale community. For all others, subsciption rate $7.50 per year.

Copyright C 1975 by The New Journal at Yale Inc., a non-profit organization. Letters and unsolicited manuscripts welcome.

3432 Yale Station, New Haven, Conn. 06520 Phone 432.0271 or 436·8650

A rei u c t a.n t proPhet Edmund Morgan does not like to think of himself as a prophet. He is a professor of colonial history at Yale University. He says that he does not hear voices. He admits that his predictions are often wrong. Yet he does hold one belief about the future with a great deal of certainty. His study of human behavior in the past and in the present has convinced him that the world has paused on the brink of its own annihilation.

Morgan bases his conviction upon a simple assumption about the way in which people behave toward one another. "Human beings," he says, "given the opportunity to do something horrible, will sooner or later do it."

In a world of multi-megatons and multiple warheads, the implication is obvious enough. "It is now within their capacity to produce the utmost horror, which is to say the destruction of the world.'' The knowledge that such a capacity exists is only a small deterrent. "The balance of terror can prolong things," Morgan says. "But I don't think it can keep a hold on them forever. Human beings have behaved despicably often enough that you expect them to do it sooner or later." It is difficult not to interpret such statements prophetically.

Morgan sees no way of predicting when exactly the apocalyptic moment will arrive. Yet he admits to a sense of its perpetual imminence. "I thought it would probably happen before this," he says. "I decided about 1946 it would be only a matter of time, probably ten or twenty years." He finds no reason for optimism in the inaccuracy of his first estimate. He believes that any number of the current world problems could mark the end's beginning.

A man of inherent modesty, Morgan is surprised, even embarrassed that anyone would seek out his belief on the issue. He stresses that he speaks with no particular expertise.

He does not consider his view especially novel. Historically it is any-

content s _______________________ comments: John Yandall mediates Edmund Morgan's common sense prophecy; Jon Wiener describes the struggle between police and the law; John Taft reassesses the meaning of a Yale education; Jon Etra throws down his oaten reed and enters the sublime.

1

Eugene McCarthy's Unfinished Business the poet-politician is making another run for it

6

Making It In A "Man's" World Joann Lawless after Yale, a woman can fight, reach .z balance, or go crazy

Erik Lazar

10 Getting More Friends for the Family the Campaign For Yale is big business

Nancy Kempner Dauis

12 Wilderness Notes walking the family land

Dauid DeVeau Sleeper

···~·d-on-·t·k·n-ow•i•f

- - - -ha · s• ta • u• g•h•t him • .• ?• i•t.•s - the mesSflge of history or human nature," Morgan says. ''There are certainly plenty of examples of human beings behaving decently- I suppose that's the only basis on which you can say they're corruptbut to expect people to do so all the time is something else."

The extent of their indecency is potentially overwhelming. "If you could keep before your mind, before your consciousness all the time, all the things that are happening to people all over the world, I think it would really drive you out of your thing but unique. "It has only been a mind." short time," he points out, "that peoOf course, few individuals, in spite ple have thought otherwise.'' of their own depravity, would admit Morgan is far from the first Yale that they favored committing the academic to believe in the certainty largest of possible crimes against of Armageddon. This university has humanity. "I suppose that if you had bestowed one of its (presumably) to take a vote on whether to do somehighest honors on three such men, thing horrible," Morgan says, "the two of whom were also past presimajority would probably vote adents: Jonathan Edwards, Timothy gainst it." But in this he finds little Dwight, and Ezra Stiles. Yet their reassurance. "It doesn't take very understanding of how history would many people to do it now. Sooner or end bears little resemblance to Morlater someone, some nut, someone gan's. who is slightly warped one way or As ordained Protestant ministers, the other, will have the power." they placed their faith in superThus, barring the prospect of dinatural redemptive power. The end vine intervention, the ultimate conthey predicted was a happy prelude sequence of depravity must be selfto the Kingdom of Heaven. Instead destruction. Should John Calvin of nuclear ashes they foresaw a milsuddenly appear through a time lenial age, a thousand-year period in warp, it seems unlikely he would which Christian saints would rule the deny the logic. earth in holy love before ascending And what of the meantime? How into glory. should we respond to such a prosSuch an escatology remains of pect? "I guess my answer would be purely historical interest to Morgan, that the most one could do is whatwho has written a biography of ever things one believes in, regardStiles. "My own religious beliefs less of what the fate of the world aren't very clear," he says. He exmight be." pects instead an apocalypse of wholFor Morgan this means doing sim· ly human creation. Spontaneous ply what he enjoys, namely trying to effusions of the spirit-Christian or understand the world as it is. He is otherwise-will never redeem the fascinated by human behavior. He world, as some more optimistic souls finds a tremendous satisfaction in continue to hope to this day. "I scholarship. As Calvin insisted, guess I don't have much faith in man's natural commitment is to himthat sort of thing," Morgan admits. self. "Maintain whatever dignity you Still, in a fundamental respect, can," Morgan advises. "It's not Morgan's vision is related to that of within your power to transform the the colonial Americans whom he world." studies. Men such as Dwight, Stiles, He professes no desire to escape and Edwards had little confidence in the inevitable should it arrive in his the human capacity for good-quite own lifetime. "If they're going to the opposite-they believed in hubomb someplace I would prefer to be man depravity, in the power of origin the middle of it," he says. "I'd inal sin. They took their conception rather not be a survivor."O of man from the sixteenth-century John Yandell church reformer John Calvin.

Calvin, a French lawyer turned John Yandell has by now, we hope, theologian, asserted that men were finished his senwr paper. essentially corrupt, selfish, and dangerous beings, "the inmost recesses of whose hearts are full of pravity, whose eyes are insidiously employed, New Haven cops in court whose minds are elated with insolence-in a word, all whose powers are prepared for the commission of atrocious and innumerable crimes."

New Haven's police department Morgan has reached a similar con- under Chief Biagio DiLieto has a clusion based upon a lifetime of hard middling reputation for operating observation. "I think that the Calwithin the law. Many claim that it is vinistic view of human nature is a unusually free of "corruption" in its realistic one," he says, "that probtraditional forms: graft, extortion of ably people are all corrupt." free meals and gifts, sleeping on the Is this the message which history beat, external political influence on

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Eugene McCarthy's Unfinished Business

by Erik L azar

Seven years after the Revolution, Eugene McCarthy is out of place. In January, 1968 he was in New Hampshire, tra velling about the state, shaking hands, orating-challenging the President of the United States.

The press surrounded him. They took his picture. He was in all the papers. Now, 58, he was with me, alone, sitting in the belly of a New York to Washington shuttle. We ¡ went tourist class.

McCarthy had just finished business in the City. He lives in Washingtori but every week he flies north to teach at the New School for Social Research where he holds the Adlai Stevenson Chair of Political Science. .

I had gone to the lecture the night before. New School types filled the audito~um: middle-aged, attentive, eternally liberal. Professor McCarthy went on for two hours on James Baldwin's Nobody Knows My _Name.

life- he was elected to Congress in 1948- he still retains the look of a scholar, conscientiously perhaps. His silver hair and blue, vaea.n t eyes make him look smart.

As the plane lifted off and flew circles over Manhattan, McCarthy explained his attitude about study: "It's good to reflect on things. Like a poem or a book. In college I wrote an essay on Swift's view of women. Now I don't know what relation it had to contemporary pr9blems but the thought itself was good." He emphasized good. ''An example- I once taught a course before the war, " Readings in Social Thought. " Years later a student of mine came up to me- a real estate agent. You know what book he said influenced him the most? Vision of Piers Plowman- 13thor 14th century. It was the only testament I ever had on it."

McCarthy has little time to read now. He is involved in another political distraction. Four months ago he announced his candidacy for Pres-ident with the support of a " third force " movement- " The Committee for a Constitutional Presidency." In front of a thous and students at the Univer sity of Wiscon sin, he recalled memories of Chi~go. At that time, after Hubert Humphrey had won the Democra t ic nomination , McCart hy took a walk. Crossing t he street in front of his hotel, he en tered Grant P ark where a group of protestors with a m icrop hone waited. He stopped for a moment. Turning to some cameras, he held up a peace sign.

After a while, he spoke.

Now in Wisconsin, McCarthy was using the same words. "I have often referred to my supporters as a government in exile," he said. "And now perhaps our time to return has come." H e omitted t he closin g t hat he had u sed in Grant Park , however; defeated and in doubt , he ha d a sserted, " I will speak out on t he issu es a s long a s I ha ve a cons tituency. And I still have a constituency. " McCarthy told me he would stop by his headquarters that afternoon. I Academics seemed like a good topic to start a conversation. I asked suggested, jokingly, that we were him about his job. flying between the poles of his academic and political life. " What is the " It's almost over," he replied. "A relationship," I asked. few more weeks and that's it. I'll be glad when it's over. All this flying is "Another example,'' he said. "We tough work. What about the Chair? suffer now in American politics because many decisions are made withOh, I dunno. It's a traditional thing, I suppose. There's no real connection out reference to historical or philosophical reflection. In the entire debetween the title and me. Adlai and bate in Congress on the volunteer I - we don' t have that much in common, you know. army , there wasn't one reference to " True," loffered, " butyouwere the classical treatises on the mercenary army. Now, at the Constitutionboth considered intellectuals.'' al Convention, you would have had " Oh, yes," McCarthy s aid. " But Adlai was more...political. Teaching men like Washington, Jefferson, and was my original commitment , you Jay reflecting on what Aristotle had know. Before I got into politics I had to say, or Plato, or Machiavelli. Even intended to spend my whole life in de Toqueville .... '' His voice trailed off, and he turned the academic world. I was finishing a to t he window. We were now somedissertation on medieval history where over New Jersey, but clouds when the distraction came on. I obscured the view of the ground never got back to it."

McCarthy s tared.

He appeared sad at the thought. " Well which do you prefer," I said.

Academics are important to himhypotheses, convolutions. Although " Aeadeinics or politic:J. '.' he has been a politician most of his McCarthy laughed. " Oh, I dunno,"

Abreath of fresh air.

TheNewJoumal/April25, 1975

page4

he answered. "You find some of these people who go from academics to politics who enjoy the power. But I don't think you can sort it out."

He has another occupation. He writes poetry. During the 1968 campaign he was labeled a poet-politician for his efforts. The tag had some truth to it. During the height of the Indiana primary he secluded himself in a motel room, scratching out lines.

His staff, wanting positions for press statements, searched furiously but couldn't find him.

Often McCarthy took rides with poet Robert Lowell~ his favorite companion. He wrote Lowell a poem, praising him as "the double agent of doubt, smuggler of truth." Lowell, in turn, responded by writing the introduction of McCarthy's only book o t verse, Other Things and the Aardvark, published after the defeat.

Extra copies are now sold to raise the money for the new campaign.

"I'm not what you would call a full-time poet," he explained. But he does have a poet's pride. He was defensive when he said, "But there have been a lot of poets who aren't full time. Look, evenT .S. Eliot worked in a bank.

"What bothers me is that some politicians refer to me as a poet with some disdain as if poetry and politics don't go together. Abraham Lincoln wrote three major poems published anonymously. So you can make a cheap argument-Abraham Lincoln was the greatest President and he was also a poet. It doesn't prove anything except that people shouldn't go around talking nonsense about poetry and politics."

Over Pennsylvania, the plane began to descend. Soon we were making an approach to the Capitol and I asked McCarthy why he is running-again.

He didn't answer for several moments. Then he spoke, his tone guarded, political: "When you've been in politics for 25 years as I have, you don't want to leave it without making a final challenge, especially when the government is in such a state of affairs as it is now.

Looking towards '76 it is obvious that there is a need for something.

The Democrats are hopeless. " He recalled 1968, bitterly. "At Chicago the party repudiated the will of the people. Between Kennedy and I, we had captured the majority of the votes. And then in 1972 you had the McGovern thing. It was essentially a takeover operation. Once they had won, they said, now the

party is us. Well, you can't do that.

It's a personalization of the campaign -everything I have been arguing against for years."

"But wasn't McGovern representative of what people wanted?"

"Well, that depends on what you mean. He didn't represent me. I testified before the platform committee in Miami. When I finished, I ran into a McGovern man outside who told me the platform was already written.

I said, "Well I'm glad to know how much attention my recommenda¡ tions are going to get."

"Do you really think you can . ?" wm.

"Of course. One third of the people in this country consider themselves independent. They don't believe in either party. That's a chance right there, isn't it?"

He was serious until the shuttle settled down on the Washington runway. When we arrived at the term¡ inal, he reached for the overhead coat rack and his white raincoat. Walking down the aisle, he straightened his tie and changed; once again he was the professor, metaphorical and ironical.

"Winning in American politics is like Latin American revolutions,'' he

said. "It all depends on who captures the radio and television stations first." He smiled at the thought.

McCarthy has his headquarters on 1223 Connecticut A venue, the bowels of downtown Washington. The area is filled with confusion-government buildings, business offices, small shops, congested streets. 1223 is hard to find; a small brownstone, it is squeezed between two large storefronts, a sewing shop and a restaurant which sells bread and soup.

McCarthy parked his car across the street, under a No Parking sign.

"I use this so I won't get towed," he told me, placing a rusting Member of Congress plate under the windshield.

To reach the third floor, one has alternatives-a staircase or an old elevator which occasionally gets stuck on its way up. "I usually use the stairs," McCarthy said, opening the elevator door. "My secretary says we might lose the candidate in this thing."

The Committee Secretary is Sue Hatt, 68, old, gray, and a socialist of sorts. She works at the Committee full time, volunteer. When McCarthy

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TheNewJoumal/April25, 1975

walked in, she frowned. "You look horrible," she,said. "Have you eaten today?"

McCarthy shook his head, bemused by the observation-Ron Cocombe, a young man who serves as Committee Chairman and looks like a mathematician, tried to welcome McCarthy over the diatribe.

"Well eat some of this," said Hatt, continuing. She pulled a piece of bread and a carrot from a pile of food on her desk. McCarthy examined the offering; he bit the carrot, but slipped the slice into his pocket. Munching, he disappeared into Cocombe's office.

I was observing the scene when Hatt interrupted my notetaking.

"You don't look like the other reporters," she told me. "So don't"ask him stupid questions."

"Like what?" I asked.

"You know," she said. "Like why he didn't support Humphrey earlier in 1968. Like why is he like Harold Stassen. Just don't ask him any stupid questions. He's so intelligent, you know."

I promised I wouldn't and was rewarded with a tour of the offices.

They were impressive for a new organization. Seven large rooms led off a twisting corridor. Most were decorated with McCarthy relics from 1968 and his abortive run in the 1972 Illinois primary. "Gene McCarthyA Breath of Fresh Air" was prominently displayed. New posters were due.

The office is usually staffed by six people; only two are paid. Karen Gibsen, 20, is typical of the recruits for the new crusade. A junior from Kent State, she is on leave and works at the Committee on weekends.

Dressed in a turtleneck and corduroys, she bent over a desk, filling out notecards for a mailing list. She wouldn't stop working to talk.

"In 1968 I was in Akron Ohio," she told me. "Ju st sitting, watching the Chicago riots on TV at home. I was sick to my stomach. But I wasn't what you call politically aware. Whv do I like McCarthy? I

don't know. I trust him, I guess.

And I'm so afraid of Jackson.''

While McCarthy made phone calls, Cocombe explained the Committee and its strategy.

"Most of us here came out of Chicago," he said. "We knew then that we couldn't work within the twoparty system. Our aim is to prove a

page5

much to go into here."

We crossed an empty bridge over the Potomac. Nearing the airport, I decided to ask the forbidden question. "Senator, do you really want to be President?"

McCarthy, as predicted, winced.

"What it comes down to is whether I have the desire to be President or not. People in the press would say I don't have the desire. But they also say-look, he's like Harold Stassen.

But I don't think it's necessary to go third force can win. McCarthy is not around with your tongue hanging going to go through the primaries. out saying, 'I want to be President.'

We are organizing volunteers all over People like Walter Mondale say they the country, getting petitions to put can't stand living out of Holiday the Senator on the ballot. Then we Inns. Well, I don't mind them a bit." will keep him active through a public National Airport was empty. A speaking tour. He's leaving tomorfew people recognized McCarthy as row for West Virginia and Mississip- he passed through the lobby. They pi. Do we expect to get on all the stood at a respectful distance, starballots? Not really. You know, you ing. Bu.t most didn't notice or seem only need 15 states to win." to care. McCarthy sat down in a long "Do you believe you can win?" I row of vacant seats in the departure lobby, waiting for his plane to Cum.asked. "Realistically."

Cocombe thought for a moment. berland. He began to scribble notes "Oh, reality," he said. "Now that's on the back of an envelope. It would not much fun, is it?" be the substance of a speech he would give later at a labor union meeting.

The next morning I visited McCarthy at his home in Georgetown.

He lives in a large, colonial, brick structure on Q Street. I rang three times before McCarthy answered the door. "I thought it was unlocked," he said "The maid usually leaves it that way when she goes."

McCarthy lives by himself, upstairs. His study is modest: a bare wood floor with two small rugs, a writing desk, a kitchen to the side, and a wall of bookshelves. These are lined with an assortment of political, philosophical, and literary works; the most prominent are Joyce's Ulysses, The Complete Oxford English Dictionary, McCarthy's Year of the People, t ranslated into French, German, and Portuguese, and, propped up by a medallion of St. Thomas More, volumes of Aquinas. Above his desk are two grey ink portraits, one of Joyce, the other of Walt Whitman. "You know who those are, don't you," he said, pointing to them.

At eight in the morning, McCarthy was tired. He sat in his desk chair, draping his arms over his knee. I asked him whether Vietnam would be discussed in his campaign.

He got up and walked into the kitchen. "That's a dead issue by now, •' the voice came from inside.

We did not have much time to talk, however, as an aide arrived to take him to National Airport.

In the car I asked him what he thought he would be remembered for if he loses. "Oh, I dunno," he said.

"The 1968 movement, I suppose.

Then he outlined his entire Senate career-his fights against pollution, his early stand against Joe McCarthy, his call in 1954 for an investigation of the CIA. "I took all these issues on before it was popular to do so," he said. "But really, it's too

When his departure was announced, he put the envelope in a brown leather valise. On it, printed in small gold letters, were the words: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. "Well, fella," he said, getting up and extending a hand, "Good luck." It was a final ironic gesture. He then turned, disappearing down a long marble corridoralone. O

Erik Lazar is an editor of TheYale Daily News Magazine.

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Making It in a ''Man's'' World

by Joann Lawless

For the past two months, I have been treated to lunch five times and dinner twice at the New York Yale Club, by classmates making from $17,000 to $20,000 a year their first four to eighteen months on the job. I have had intense, serious discussions over cups of tea and cappucino about work, sue· cess, power, the balance between career and per· sonallife, and Yale's influence or lack of it on these questions. I have interviewed three bankers, two lawyers, four law students, several graduate students (in Chinese literature, American history and public health), a librarian, an economist, an assistant to a theatre producer, a magazine editor and an advertising consultant. Second hand, I have heard about two classmates who started a half-way house for the retarded, a legal aid lawyer busy sixty hours a week, a Wall Street lawyer who worked the Fourth of July, an actress whose answering service says she's in Hollywood, a poet who founded an experimental literary magazine, a former feminist who had a church wedding, a lending officer who took a course at Cordon Bleu, a secretary in a factory married to a foreman, two typists who denied they were just "typing, an heiress working on a documentary of the Ameri· can Nazi Party, a psychiatrist at a V.A. hospital, an editor of Viva and a writer whose first book, Memoirs of a Yale Woman was rejected after two drafts by Harper and Row, and who is writing her second, Memoirs of a Cleaning Woman, while 11

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driving a school bus. Everyone was frank, en· grossed in our discussions, eager for gossip about other classmates and generous with credit cards.

The fact that everyone I interviewed was fe· male should not be surprising; Yale women are used to considering themselves the equals of their male counterparts, and used to being written to death in the media. What did surprise me was that so few women were devoted to their work (ob· sessed with it, if you will). All were anxious about s uccess; but few could put conflicts about competition with lovers and husbands and the diffi. culty of combining careers with children out of their minds. Some even seemed tormented. The men they knew (and their male classmates) worked first and worried, if at all, in their spare time.

Yale's ftrst "coeds" transferred into the junior class and graduated in 1971. In an article in the New York Times Magazine, April13, 1969, "How Yale Selected her First Coeds," the appli· cants were described as "a female version of Nietzche's Uebermensch" by author John Lear, '70. For some reason, that phrase stuck. "Coed" didn't. In presenting this view of the class of 1971 and their work, four years later, I must confess two biases: I wanted my classmates to be 1) strong women and 2) happy people. I did not, I'm glad to say, meet any superwomen.

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Karen, the first and only woman attorney in a small Park A venue firm, met me in one of those East Side restaurants where you can't linger over your $2.50 hamburger. She loves her work, but said, "I do see my career as hopefully interrupted. I don't feel a conflict between personal life and career, however, since I haven't had to deal with it yet. The men I know, my colleagues, see no interruptions." She spent the rest of lunch com· plaining that her job is to a large extent her iden· tity-she has found few male counterparts who can hold their own against her, and this makes her uncomfortable. But then she adds, "there's no question that my attitude is very sexist. She assumes that any man she would marry would be more capable than she is; otherwise, she wouldn't give up her career.

Anne, a lending officer in a New York bank, met me in the middle of a crisis -an African company she oversees was crumbling. "It's been a harrowing morning, but I'm challenged by this."

Since Yale, where she lacked confidence among male "magnas and summas" in an intensive major, she has come into her own, says a col· league, and "will make a magnificent banker."

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TheNewJoumal/April25, 1975

page7

She assures me that she and her husband share the household tasks "absolutely," but she is wary that, in a few years, having a child may be the easy way out for her- "If I don't get the next promotion. People I train with now would be moving ahead of me, but that doesn't bother me, as long as I'm doing something interesting."

Although she and her husband, an investment banker, make nearly equal salaries, she feels a severe area of conflict would arise were she to make more. Her husband's career is "more important, and that doesn't bother me."

Stephanie, currently unemployed, lives a few miles from her parents' home in Brooklyn. She enjoys pottery and gourmet cooking, and dreams of a studio in southern France. "Someday I'll become a famous potter. " She and her husband, also a Yale graduate, hope to have children while they are young, and she hopes to return to school, although she's not yet sure in what field. "I give myself six months to figure out my life," she said.

Since graduation, she has worked her way up in a small pharmaceutical company from $130 a week typing to over $10,000 a year as right hand woman to the president, in charge of advertising, doing bibliographies, etc., all skills she learned on the job. "I just killed myself there... l'd still do typing when it was needed; that was my problem, they relied on me too much for too many things. It was exhausting. I came home one night at 7:30, decided I was about to have a nervous breakdown, told my boss I was quitting, then stayed a month and a half longer." She says that none of the employment agencies in her current job search recognize that she has any skills, except typing.

"When I made my first film, I was utterly fulfilled, more than any other experience of my life.

Since then, well, I've never really wanted to commit suicide.... " Barbara could laugh, but her irony concealed the bitterness of three years of writing up budgets, submitting grant proposals, winning grants, meeting important producers who think highly of her work -and nothing but debts and an increasingly spotty if impressive resume to show for it. Now she works full time at a clericalcomputer job at a prestigious bank, where she was able to convince them-with the help of her Yale credentials-that she was serious about a banking career, after a "fling" with the arts. She edits her film at night and week-ends when she can wheedle equipment, and feels increasingly schizophrenic nine to five.

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Granting that, interviews indicate that the male vs. female experience at Yale was more similar than different. Certainly the sex dichotomy is less applicable now, as women become fully integrated into the university. Some students work, some don' t, some students become more confident in four years, some less. But, academic life aside, no male students ever said to me, and I expect none will, "It was a big blur in my mind. I can't speak of those years." Men articulated specific experiences at Yale, positive or negative; women talked reluctantly about "lack of space to grow" or "confusing kalaidescopes," or refused to talk at all. One reflected, "At Yale I had no women friends. I felt disjointed. It was an identity problem I wasn't aware of- I was just one ofthe guys." This remark kept recurring as women discussed work, college, graduate school, and their intellectual lives. Even morestrikingthough, was that no one, except me, seemed bothered by the phrase, but proud of it.

The women who did have a positive experience at Yale in those first confused years seem to have transferred from womens colleges, especially Vassar, Smith and Wellesley. There were 32 women from Wellesley alone, out of 177 women in the class of '71.

To the usual complaint about Wellesley's dorm dinner conversations on mixers and wardrobes, one woman added, "Wellesley produced the perfect corporation president's wife. I wanted not to be the wife but the president."

"I detested Vassar," another said. "Those were the two most miserable years of my life; while at Yale, I thought I really loved it. The difference between Vassar andYale was not the quality of the courses but the quality of the bullshit; I'm sure Vassar was not as bad as I remember it."

Yale, it seems clear, both encouraged and discouraged women's career motivations. At Vassar, None of the men I talked with sounded "schizophrenic." None, when asked how they saw said a banker, "I saw the nice passive model, you know, from the class notes, Susie has her second themselves in five years, mentioned fathering a single child. Like Karen the attorney, they defined child, her husband is in grad school. Yale changed themselves in terms of their work; unlike her, they my ideas of what I could do with my life. No one did not see this as a problem. Most were trying for would ever ask a male graduate to sit down and type.... Yale gave me more of a backbone, made the same balance between work and personal life me more of a man, a leader." as were the women, but all seemed to be able to But another, who had just won a prestigious draw on a reservoir of seU-confidence, or at least clerkship, complained, •'Yale screwed me royally the life-long expectation that they would support on career advice; there was none, or it was errothemselves.

The relative lack of confidence of their female neous. All the guys I knew were doing better- I classmates, even those making $20,000 a year, led got demoralized." The anti-city, communal. "Conme to ask: did Yale make a difference? The partic- sciousness I II" atmosphere of the time, said a ular strengths and quirks of the school itseU don't classmate, was partially responsible. Since the age of thirteen, she had wanted to attend law school, matter-and the peculiar situation of thoee first but Yale muted her interest. "Though I grew up in years of coeducation must be kept in mind. They New York, I became anti-New York, anti-career. I were strange years, for everyone. What is imporwas very confused. At Yale I saw men organizing tant is the differential impact of Yale on women projects, and said, 'why can't I do that?' I spent a aDd their future achievements, or lack of tbem. lot of time flyina around, diaperaiua energy- I Almost without exception. the womeD with . . . unbappy aDd felt cbeated iD . · whom I talked said they had 1101 ~deeply that way.

But it's not udusively a female thiDg. involved in academic or profeeaioaaJ pursuits • Nobody did a damn~ except a few people who uncleqp'aduatea. Most__.. either too busy meetstood out. You did Me men makinc contacts you inc exdtinc people and &oviDa it or fOWid their couldD•t make, a v.-y few meD.. but yoa dic:'D•t see c:ounee, pofu~ aDd classmates dull

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women making any. If women were compulsive workers, they did nothing splendid." Several men told me that they were offered jobs or fellowships through these contacts; none of the women did.

"The old boy system works," said another classmate, "if you're not a girl."

If many women were not inspired by academic work, or by professors, or by career possibilities, were they motivated by each other or by women's groups? (After the first year of anonymity and the 10 to 1 ratio, there were scattered "consciousness raising" groups, a tiny organization called the Sisterhood, and an abortion law suit campaign.)

Only a handful of women said they had been directly influenced by or had any contact with "the women's movement" such as it was. Most said, however, that they felt indirect influence through friends and reading. One former sociology major described herself as "sort of dikey. I was much heavier-we always wore jeans, never skirts, these issues were all we talked about." She did a senior year study of her classmates and their "self-actualization as a function of their social life." She found the most confident women had steady boyfriends; the least confident, those seeking psychiatric help or having nervous breakdowns, led "normal social lives" -dating several men, a telling comment on the "normal social life" at the time, for both men and women. Speaking about the movement now, she said, "either I becarne disenchanted, or I took what I could get, and there's not that much more the women's movement can offer me."

A lawyer denied being affected by the movement except that her mother no longer nagged her for not having two kids. A friend told me later that she had organized a women's tennis team and had been instrumental in the discrimination suit against the New York Yale Club. About the tennis team, she had said, "It was hard. I was annoyed we got so little support. In a way, it was good, because we really worked for what we wanted. But it shows the male Yale prejudice that women shouldn't be so competitive."

The classmate who expressed the moat overt feminist beliefs, a photography professor and the first and only woman in her department, concluded, "I think it will be uphill all the way.

Women in academia (or the professions) won•t have it easy in our generation. But I'm gonna fight." She flew in from the midwest this past semester to teach a seminar in Calhoun Co1Jeae once a week.

In short, I found both the women's movement and Yale's influence on women's career choices minimal and indirect, with the one or two exceptions of those who said, "Ya1e ch.ansed my entire life." Yale's seeming lack of impact, ~or imagined, is either understandable or criminal, depending on your point of view. It comes riPt down to how seriously Yale eDCOUrageS leadenbip in women u ,reD u men. Suppoee aD the JDeD iD the class of '71 said Yale bad DO iDftueDce OD

them?

What did emerge was a pattem of stnJDa prior enc:ouragemeDt by a womaD's family • ..,.

TheNewJoumal/April25, 1976

seemed to make a difference in motivating women to pursue a career. Several said they were their "father's daughters"- "Everyone always said I'd go into business, like my father," -or brother's equals- "I grew up with the impression that there was nothing I couldn't do, I never considered not working."

But sometimes even these strong incentives were confusing. The same woman who said her role-model was her professional mother, an accountant, so that "Women's lib" wasn't necessary ("I'm already what all women should become, someone who expects to work, to have a career") revealed later that unlike her boyfriend and former classmate, she didn't see her fulfillment in life coming from her work. "There's no work I could do that would make me forget lunch." She was especially jealous, however, of his high-paying, prestigious job in computer analysis, since, "We had identical educations.... ! helped him do his . computer homework." Now job-hunting, she says, (' I don't think I'll ever produce as vital and as true and as smart an image as he can." But, " I wouldn't want his job, boss or company. I don't want to put up with what he puts up with." weu. poe>

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full of worms, they went on to say they wanted a bite, a big bite. This lawyer, for example, described the seductive game-playing by women wishing to get ahead in a firm with a fascinating mixture of bravado, fear, pride, and anger, careful to mention her own attractiveness, and ability at the game. She did not see herself as brown-nosing.

Other women spoke of using their sexuality to get ahead, always attacking male chauvinism in the same breath.

A completely opposite reaction came from a woman graduate student who kept secret the fact that she was living with a man because she would be "defamed" in her department as a "loose woman." Then she told me a story which made me understand her paranoia, and seemed to summarize a lot more. She made me promise to change all the facts, so I wouldn't embarrass anyone, "since everyone in the grad school knows this story."

A woman passed her comprehensive exams with distinction and was an outstanding member of her department. Then she didn't do well on a minor language exam, nothing crucial. Thirty-one, and " losing her looks," she felt she would have nothing if she failed at academia. She flew off to Argentina, married a man s he had dated but hardly knew within two weeks, and had a baby within a year.

Is it the "fear of success" in bright women, documented by Matina Homer, president of Radcliffe, or simply the fact that a woman's four or five best child-bearing years occur while she is in graduate school, or s upposedly striving for her next promotion? One lawyer, whom other classmates describe as ambitious if not calculating, said of her desire for children: "I want them. If you fear death ... children leave links behind you.

Like this woman, many classmates both were Without children, you're apt to be very lonely, jealous of and spent a lot of time denigrating men dependent on your husband . A friend of my they felt were over-absorbed in work. In fact, mother's is really quite miserable. It might be a women talked less about how they themselves bad thing to miss-you're better off with them were working than how they saw their friends, than not." She has not found very many men she lovers and classmates working. "This compulsive- wants to date, let alone marry. ness is disgusting beyond words," said a third year law student. A devoted jogger, she proudly showed me a T-shirt she had won in competition I don't want to give the wrong idea. The other then went on to complain of the lawyer she knew who wouldn't talk on the phone to an old friend in side of ambivalence is balance, however shaky. Of town, let alone visit him, because he had too much course, feminists and calculating career women work on a Sunday night. ·"Obviously I have no can have children and do. Many of the women I talked with seemed to be achieving a compromise intention of having no personal life outside my rather than dwelling on dualities. Or were they? work," she said "There's a lot of pressure in that A graduate student said, "I'm seeking the direction, I'll have to confront it. I do worry a lot, yet I want these things. Status-it means a lot to great wholeness-relationships you care about, a profession you love-so you don't get obsessed me. " A graduate student in history complained with the relationship, and don't get fanatic about that all the men she knew, too, were in a frantic work-it's a delicate balance, a little skewed in my clutch about "success, reputation, name, being case." She added that she neither performed as good. It is devastating." But what attracts her in well in the clutch nor took her work " with ultimate men? That same intensity. seriousness" as did her male colleagues. " They, After twenty-five interviews, this jarring especially my professors, see my desire to teach at ambivalence began to get to me. When asked how a community college with my Ph.D. as a she saw herself in five years, for example, a third cop-out- I see it as a potential means of balancing year law student said, " I could with equal what I want out of life. " probability be married with four kids, not pracIs it balance or cop-out? A lawyer making ticing law, and so sublimely happy, or so into my $20,500 tells me, dark circles under her eyes, "I very much like what I'm doing. My husband is so work that I 'd not have time for men; more likely, nice. If I weren'tmarried, I'd be miserable-dating I '11 be living with a supportive man, combining all the time-it's so distracting." She says the job work and private life, with the major variable how has taken its toll; she's not sure she would be much time he would give to his work." His work, working if it weren't for her husband's debts. "I'm again. obsessed with competition at this point; women Over and over, women insisted that the men who found their identity in work were immature leave because they no longer desire to compete. I don't care if I don't become a partner-it's a rat and shallow. "They think they're hot shit; they aren't worth beans. Women are more flexible. Suc- race- I work almost every weekend. I've decided to stop, even though I have an overdue memo for a cess depends on emotional relationships. It may partner." Is she copping out, or being sane, so she be a female characteristic. I can't stand browncan get some sleep? nosing by men." But after criticizing the apple as

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Janet, a graduate student, said, "I have the same ideal of satisfaction with a man and my work. It's a terrible conflict-there's only so much time. I find myself acting like a man, relegating my boyfriend to second place. I'm brittle and grouchy if it's just my work alone ... On the other hand, I haven't done as well this year, maybe I didn't get something finished because I was cooking a meal." This dialogue followed: J: ••Academics will never be my whole life, fanatical as you may think I am."

P, her friend: "What I meant by your fanatical devotion to your work was your brilliance in scholarship. Everyone admires it."

J: "Who me?"

Is this balance, or lack of confidence?

Indeed, some of the women who were the most "ambivalent" and whose statements were the most contradictory expressed the most interest in money, prestige, success, and power. "1. have vast aspirations," said the same laWYer who saw herself as possibly barefoot, pregnant and blissful. "Either I'll conquer the world, or find fulfillment without status and external considerations. I'm interested in politics, the men I'm attracted to are powerful politically, I'm attracted to power. It sounds inhuman, I don't like what it says about me as a person."

She also feels she threatens men, which other classmates reiterated. "They're afraid in the crunch I won't play mommy, and I'm afraid I will-that's why I come on so aggressive and independent." But she feels no guilt about making money, or " making more than my husband. In theory it wouldn't be a problem, in fact it would, unless we're both making over 100." $100,000 a year, that is.

She then observed that men she knew who were doing spectacular work were only now "toying with the possibility that a woman might make a difference. Basically my male friends have never been in love, now they're feeling a sense of loss, and coming to the realization that they'd like to compromise."

Perhaps both men and women can achieve a compromise, coming from different sides of the sexual gap, or chasm. But women need to not only work out the nitty-gritty details of childcare and part-time work in juggling career and personal life, and to find men who are not threatened. They

also need role-models, and they aren't finding any.

"I wish there were someone fifty years old I could look up to," said one banker. "I was terrified when I came here (the branch where she heads the credit department): it's been really gratifying, they've had a lot of bitchy women, one who screwed her way to the top, another who was eccentric, incompetent, flighty; I like to think I've shown them I'm competent, feminine, not threatening, one of the guys, but a lady too, and I get the work done damn well."

Besides role-models, she-and others-kept telling me they needed house-husbands. "There sure are enough men around who don't want to work." I didn't find any candidates among the men I asked. "I enjoy my work," she concluded. "I do as much as I have to do to get a good job done.

I'm not married to it."

In all my interviews, I found only two women who were "married to their work" and who did not find that questions about ambivalence and balance struck a raw nerve. They were both single, slightly overweight, and had a sense of irony about themselves. There the resemblance ended.

Peggy, a banker, drank glass after glass of club soda with lime until I lost count and we were the last people in the Yale Club. She wheedled free cake and a carafe of wine effortlessly from the waiter, insisting over and over how much she loves her work. "I don't find anyone else who does, I feel very self-conscious, like the dynamic business lady, par excellence, the weirdo in the group. I am competitive by nature, I want to succeed, and be recognized as the best in my field. " Every once in a while, however, she confessed, she'll get up late, "have lunch at the Plaza, go to a matinee, meet a friend for tea, isn't this lovely, a suburban lady you know, I've nothing against it if it's conscious choice, and then I realize, it's nice for one day, not for five. I live out my fantasies to get rid of them."

She described a possible marriage between two travelling bankers; "If he works in D.C., me in New York, we'll meet in Philly." She said that the secretaries in her office were appalled at her joke about preferring goldfish as pets to children, and told how, after a fiasco weekend interview her senior year at a southern Law School, the only "girl" applying for a prestigious fellowship, she sent copies of Sisterhood is Powerful by Robin Morgan, inscribed to all the faculty wives. She didn't get the fellowship.

"I'm a very junior person, I haven't yet reached my prime; when I'm forty, I'll be formidable in the best sense." She is formidable, ushering me out of the Yale Club. "All my friends and I , we're frightfully traditional Old Blues, with all the characteristics that go with it, almost ethnic characteristics, bankers, analysts, laWYers, and doctors, conventional. 'Oh my goodness, it's happened to me,' we say."

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Nancy and I talked in her bright red Victorian house filled with paintings by one of her roommates-large, colorful nudes, crouching, standing, staring. She works with a radical group organizing in New Haven, does economic research for two professors part-time to support herself, and writes. "I write because I want to leave something behind me - and I probably won't have children.'' After graduation she did part-time clerical work and edited a local radical newspaper for a year and a half, then went to the London School of Economics for a masters degree in economic history.

In the last three and a half years, she said her attitude toward work has "changed passively."

While doing clerical work, "I knew it wasn't a terrific job but I never sought anything else.

Politics was the thing I was doing, where most of my energy went." After her stay in England, she decided she wanted to get paid doing work that would give her energy rather than take it away.

Her room on the porch has bay windows on three sides; she turned frequently in her desk chair and looked out over the tops of the trees. "I see my life as not without conflict but if I hold to a steady course-my own-not a ready made cubby-hole-my work and my political life will continue to be interwoven." As an example of this she said she anticipates a union organizing drive at Yale in the next year. She is learning secretarial skills at night school so she can get involved by taking a typist position. In five years she is not at all sure what she will be doing but hopes to continue "acquiring skills. I want jobs that will teach me things- I'm interested in labor, economics, history." Her only security, she said, is her ability to work.

"I see myself as a single person the rest of my life." She looked directly at me again and said she wants enough money so she can buy property, a house, as security when "I'm old and sick and crazy." She laughed. "I've definitely changed."

Marriage, she feels, is an appealing option for a woman because it has traditionally provided that security.

While we talked a man she had introduced earlier as a friend from Holland came in, took a shirt from the closet and left with a book.

Blushing and laughing excitedly, she described their relationship. "Our roles are completely reversed. It's almost too funny. I don't just mean tasks. He's supposed to be here working, but- " she laughed again, then became serious. "I'm the one who needs emotional support and he doesn't mind being the person giving it, intellectually he's in my orbit rather than me in his. It feels so natural; this must be right for me. But sometimes it comes over me, 'I'm getting away with something. This isn't how it should be.' But I'm really happy it is."

For a while we talked about writers we liked-Proust, Doris Lessing, Simone de Beauvoir-and joked about taking down the names and addresses of our rich classmates. By now I had thrown away my questions about power and success, but I still wanted to know-how is she certain when she's on "her own course?"

"When I'm not going a little crazy," she said. "I had a sense of peace in England-a balance- I haven't been able to establish it here yet. It requires intense self-knowledge. The peril for me is going crazy. I think that's peculiar to being female, Marxist, and alive in the U.S. today."

She said this, I nodded and wrote it all down, but I was struck by how calm and sane she seemed, looking over her desk and the trees toward the Long Island Sound.

Having spoken for my classmates (I've always thought Joyce Maynard presumptuous), I would like nothing better than to be disproved. I want scores of young women, from Yale or anywhere, to write me saying: "I love my work, I'm devoted to my career, art, profession, I won't give it up, I'll never have kids, I want power, fame, $100 thou, to be one of the guys, a man .... " No- I'd rather see women, and men, write in describing that delicate balance, doing work one cares about, having relationships one cares about, without neurosis or guilt or agonizing selfindulgence; defining "success" not in terms of money and status but in terms of inner satisfaction and even joy; using "power" humanely to better the lives of others. A utopian, unrealizable fantasy? So was "coeducation" in 1971.0 Joann Lawless, '71, is an M.F.A. candidate at Columbia in writing.

Getting More Friends for the Family

by Nancy Kempner Davis

" $97 MILLION FOR YALE / 26% OF GOAL" screams the cover of "The Campaign for Yale's Bulletin Two," mailed to all of the approximately 90 thousand Alumni. This is correct. What follows is not. " The Campaign For Yale has raised $97 million in ten months - over a quarter of its $370 million goal. " Kingman Brewster officially opened the Campaign in April1974, ten months before this s tatement was made. He said, "I am happy to announce we s tart this campaign with commitments or gifts of $63 million applicable to the campaign goal." This $63 million must be subtracted from the $97 million total.

In ten months the Campaign for Yale has raised $34 million. Included after April1974, was the $15 million grant from John Hay Whitney, '26, intended for two residential colleges but s tymied by the New Haven Board of Aldermen since 1973 when they invoked the so-called Guida

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Amendment. This $15 million must be subtracted from the $34 million total.

In ten months the Campaign for Yale has raised $19 million. The Alumni Fund contributed six million it has raised independently during that ten month period. This $6 million must be subtracted from the $19 million total.

In ten months the Campaign for Yale has raised $13 million.

The Campaign takes care of its own. In a university where furniture is re-cycled indefinitely, the Campaign for Yale's headquarters at 155 Whitney A venue have been decorated. Before the executive staff moved in earlier this year, the ceiling was tom up to ins tall individual air conditioner ducting to each office.

The carpet is wall to wall bronze shag.

A t least 14 new beige I.B.M. selectrics sit on new formica and chrome desks.

A jovial, shoulder-to-the-wheel s pirit is cultivated. The executives work with their doors open. They wave, shake hands, and clap each other on the back. The secretaries, clustered in groups of three and four, chatter and laugh. But two junior level executives and one secretary refuse to discuss their work. They are afraid of being fired. They suggest directing all questions to Donald M. Marshman, Director of Information.

A huge, slightly stooped man, "Mac" Marshman has had a varied career. He won an Oscar in collaboration with Billy Wilder for the screen· play of "Sunset Boulevard," starring Gloria Swanson. After a stint as an editor at Time Inc., he worked for Young and Rubican, and owned his own advertising agency. When the Campaign is won, he says, he may retire.

Mr. Marshman does not have the exact figures on how much the Campaign has cost. "I don't think it would be appropriate to tell you even if I knew. Our total ceiling for Cam· paign expenditures is four percent.''

He affirms that he means four per· cent of the $97 million. "That's normal-what other colleges spend. Of course, the United Fund drive is lower, but remember-we're not a local outfit."

The Campaign for Yale has offices in New York and Chicago. Another will probably open soon in San Fran· cisco. "In the later stages of the Campaign," says Chief Executive Officer John Perry Miller, ''we will be in Akron, Detroit, Milwaukeeover 60 cities in all. You have no idea how much money there is in Milwau· kee." The Campaign does not plan full ecale offices in these citiee. lt hopes to establiah volunteer orpni· zations.

"Is three and a baH million a fair estimate?'~ I ask, thinking of the four ·percent expenditure, aDd remembering that·the Campaip ~ coetma a little lees Ulan budpted. Mr.MIII'Sh· man sipe hia coffee. ..Yea," be ..,..

That ficure was later corrected to be two million clollan.

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The Campaign has a three-part plan. To quote Bulletin One, also mailed to the 90 thousand alumni:

"First Year. Seek Leadership Uifts ($500,000 and above) ; enlist volunteers and develop plans, material and staff for subsequent years.

Second Year. Commence solicitation of Major Gifts ($50,000 and above), continue Leadership Gifts efforts and prepare for across-theboard solicitation to follow.

Third Year. This is the Special Gifts stage of the Campaign in which all alumni, parents and friends who have not been solicited previously will be asked to make their special capital pledge."

John Perry Miller's is the corner office, reached through an anteroom where his secretary works. She is the only secretary with her own room.

(Elsewhere at Yale, power is mea· sured by proximity to President Brewster in Woodbridge Hall; at the Campaign it is how close one is to Mr.Miller.) The Campaign also rents close to six thousand square feet on the third floor, used mainly for the researchers and the Campaign's massive file system.

Before Mr. Miller can speak, the phone rings. It is the Los Angeles Yale Alumni Organization. The profits from the international preview of a Paul Newman (Drama '51) film will be donated to the Campaign. Might Brewster fly out for the gala? Mr. Miller considers.

As he hangs up, he explains. "I had to say no. It won't bring in more than eighteen thousand. I can't fly Brewster across for that. He gives us lot's of his time-he says people 'like to see the headwaiter'- but that wouldn't be using it well." He shakes his head, shrugs and says, "I'm sorry."

Mr. Miller is round, with white hair. He bounces in his chair. He wears monogrammed shirts with french cuffs and suits made in Hong Kong. Dean of theY ale Graduate School(1961-1969), the reason for hiring him is that he comes from the faculty side of the fence, while he is also a highly regarded administrator and has been successful as a fundraieer. He wants to retire when the Campaign ends.

"So far we've concentrated on the Big Guns, the Leadership Gifts. We go after them very carefully. We've received 22 commitments totaling 66 million dollars. Each person is approached individually.

"We go to his frieDds, his businees partner, his college roommate and find out how much he's worth. We learn if he was on crew,. in a secret. society. Maybe be'e mter.ted ia the Math department. Well. we aeed·a · , . : DeW Mathematics Cater. · ''Next thing ie to figure out J.ow best to approech him;- See if he .-Ia to have Bnw.&er vieit to pt iD &he ,

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Let's just say the bulk of it."

A senior member of the administration close to Brewster who wishes to remain anonymous makes what he terms "a very conservative guess ....

Kingman is independently responsible for at least $50 million."

The Campaign for Yale put $97 million in the University's coffers, and has spent two million in the process. Included in the total are $15 million from Jock Whitney and $6 million from the Alumni Fund. Of the $74 million remainder, $65 millit>n lion comes from Leadership Gifts.

Subtracting the anonymous estimate of $50 million personally raised by President Brewster, the Campaign for Yale has earned a maximum of $24 million for the University's use.

Mr. Miller looks tired for a moment. "The easy money's all in."

about what he's worth, how he might like to be approached, how much to ask. We have three men traveling full time." He shakes his head.

"They're under tremendous pressure to sell." Mr. Miller does not know how many of the approximately 90 thousand Alumni rate a dossier in Campaign files. He refuses to ask hi~ research staff.

Eventually, all Yale graduates will. be listed in University fundraising files. A file would include class, major, names of roommates and friends, as well as extra-curricular activities. Each alumnus's job and earnings, if known, will be recorded along with estimated net worth.

Mr. Marshman does not know how the ftle system works. "Basically when there's a red dot-or its equivalent- by the name on the cover it means 'Anything goes. The sky's the limit! A possible Kline' (as in Biology Tower). There are a hell of a lot of red dots in those files.''

The Campaign for Yale's three year goal will be met in part through institutions. Business gifts must earn $20 million, foundation grants The Campaign for Yale is big busshould total $40 million. The cominess. It employs 75 people. But mittee has just been formed. Robin most of the solicitation in the next Winks, an English professor on half two stages of the Campaign must be academicleave from the University, done by volunteers. David Atcheson, directs this part of the Campaign.

Executive Secretary of Leadership He does not know how much the Gifts thinks the core of the 'Old Boy' Foundation Gifts Drive has earned. network which will raise money is "About two million -check with Milthe Yale Development Board, ler, he's got the figures. "The because "the men on its are tops; in Alumni Fund plans to turn over to industry, business, on the Street." the Campaign $27 million which they Mr. Atcheson has the memory of a earned separately. The are on well programmed computer. Several schedule so far. alumni names are mentioned at ranThese combined sources are dom; to the first he tags class, room- expected to raise $87 million. The mate, and profession. Of the second remaining $283 million must come from private donors. he remembers only class and secret society. He apologizes.

Last April a 48 page booklet was Marshman. "The friends of the fam"Through the Board we can almost mailed to alumni informing them of ily are those on the corporation, always find a connection to a rich the Campaign. Included was a stateman. We can offer him any option; a ment from President Brewster citing people who know and are concerned about Yale. The ones who call us up gift from his corporation for business past and present academic glory, and say, 'How much do you need?'gifts, through the class fund, even by plus a description of Yale's current the Parent's fund." plight. The last pages give the The ones Brewster has asked."

A member of the faculty who The Campaign is proud of a book"Basic Planning Concepts.'' works in the administration exlet they titled ••yale College Admis"Year one (Spring 1974-8pring 1975): Leadership Gifts and Organiplained: "Brewster is tired. He sions ... Alumni, Athletics, Financial wants to retire. He stuck it out Aid, Minorities, etc... " It explains zational Preparation-During this through the sixties and May Day. that with the possible exception of year... approximately $200 million must be sought in gifts for both He kept the campus cool, did a great the class of '50, never has Yale endowment and current use....The job. But Yale is broke-we're operaccepted more alumni children than ating at a deficit. He's got to stay for '78. Says Mr. Marshman, "Not Campaign did not expect to earn all until Yale's on its feet financially. He speaking to the political issues at all, $200 million the first year. Mr. Marshman estimates, "It takes ten can't quit and leave the next presiInky Clark was a bad administrator. dent holding the bag.

We pay for that with angry alumni." months to two years for the big "Think about it. Have you seen The Campaign is preparing for the gifts. We have to go carefully, they Brewster in the news lately, around mass solicitation. Mr. Marshman like to take their time." However, campus? He used to make speeches explains how: "Let's take Worcester the Campaign already has commitments from the members of theY ale all the time, and visit each Yale colMassachusetts. No particular Corporation, as well as all the lege every month. He doesn't bother reason." He crosses his arms behind "friends of the family." any more. He's spending most of his his head. "Bound to be alums there.

Year One is up. The Campaign for time on the Campaign -raised a lot We contact a few, ask one to chair Yale has $97 million. From Spring of money himself." theW orcester Drive of the Cam1974 to Spring 1975 it has earned How much of the $65 million in paign for Yale. Then he gets six or only $13 million of this total.

Leadership Gifts has Brewster raised soYale men from the area together Mr. Miller looks tired. "The easy at his club in the late afternoon, or personally? Mr. Miller grimaces. "I won't say. It's impossible to estiat his home at night. We send a staff money is all in." 0 man up with a list of all the Yale mate anyway. It's all done in collaboration." grads we know of in Worcester.

Nancy Kempner Dauis, '78, writes Can you give an approximation?

Often they can add a few names. The frequently for The Yale Daily News meat though, is what they know Mr. Miller sighs. "The bulk of it.

Magazine.

3

mood. Or if he's shy, a friend might ring him up and invite him to lunch with one of our staff. We can go to him-or we're happy to show him around Yale.

"But we've got to be careful. Lots of times someone will write us a $50,000 check without waiting to hear from us. That's bad. We call it defensive giving.

"We want the Big Guns-the ones we know could manage a couple of million-to give until it hurts." Mr. Miller smiles whenever he says "million."

He thinks a minute. "No, no I don'tmean that. Wewantpeopleto give until it's fun. Yes, fun. How so?

It's fun to achieve....Yale alumni are great achievers: two presidents, nine Senators, lots of honors .... A million dollar donation is an achievement. A man might like to see his name on the wall in Sterling."

Mr. Miller refuses to divulge the names of any Leadership Gifts donors. "I don't think it's appropriate to publish their names in your magazine. They will be made public eventually, in something with a major scope."

"We have gotten money from all the 'friends of the family,' "says Mr.

I

~

,

Wilderness Notes

by David DeVeau Sleeper

I remember being afraid of the land in back of my house in Larchmont, New York - a fifteen acre triangle of scrub-choked fields and forest. We called it (quite naturally) The Woods, and until I was five or six I never walked there alone, too frightened of hawks, raccoons, possums and other wild creatures I didn't understand. Three rock formations marked the boundaries of my childhood wilderness : a glacier-left boulder that the neighborhood kids called Big Rock, an exposed section of bedrock named Flat Rock, and towards

wire. I sat down on a fallen tree and stared at the topographical map of northern Vermont my grandfather had given me when I told him I wanted to explore the property. I glanced up at the sun and felt a bit foolish because its position in the sky didn't mean anything to me. Then I looked at my dog-a suburban bred collie who follows rather than leads when walking through a forest. She was sitting patiently, head cocked, and waiting for me to continue. I was lost, completely lost, and I couldn't help but smile.

• • • I 've been thinking about land lately-my land; really my grandfather's land, four hundred acres of Vermont forest, with a two acre pond and a cottage slowly being gnawed apart by porcupines and the long winters. No one lives there. My grandparents prefer to stay fifteen miles away in the more civilized surroundings of town or at their summer place on Lake Memphremagog.

The Pond Property just sits; its clearings turn inexorably back into forest, the old logging roads run with mud in the spring and grow jungles of weeds in the summer. The beavers build and rebuild their series of dams, the otters play tag, the hawks circle, the deer (though seldom seen) the south, rising a hu.n dred feet in leave their tracks everywhere. Tresthe air was the biggest landmark of passing hunters scatter red, all, a rock we considered almost a liv- yellow, and blue shell casings ing thing-King Kong. We spent about, and local teenage couples long afternoons hunting in The break down the front gate with Woods, first for rabbits and pheastheir cars, searching out places to ants (using sticks for rifles) and in park in privacy. A hundred year old later years for each other, in all-day farmhouse falls down and disappears wars with Daisy pump action air amid the second growth of spruce, guns and plastic Army carbines. maple, and pine trees. The hop house As I got older TheWoods got fell apart ten years ago; the old smaller, chunk by chunk carved out sugar liouse looks as if it will last forby bulldozers and steam shovels for ever. The Pond Property sits, with streets with names like Winding its owls and spirits and stands of Brook Drive and Woods Way, and · white pine; family members visit the split-level houses with seedstore property only sporadically. Last year lawns. I still remember hearing the my grandfather tried to sell it. I muffled explosions echoing over didn't fully understand my fear - or what were left of the fields when the my anger. building contractors destroyed King Kong.

•••

• • • "Wilderness is the raw material out of which man has hammered the artifact called ciuilization. " Aldo Leopold in A Sand County Almanac

• • • I was lost on my own land. My dog and I had turned south from the old beaverkill and found the red plastic tags nailed to the trees that/marked the Pond Property's bounjary. We had followed the tags (anii sections of barbed wire so old they were. embedded in the trees) for a distance of two hundred yards, detoured around a stretch of swampy land, and then lost the boundary. I backtracked but still couldn't find the tags or the

My grandfather, a retired WalJ Street insurance broker who lived in Scarsdale and vacationed in Vermont, bought the Pond Property in three installments starting in 1961.

According to his records, he paid the three previous owners an average of $27.50 an acre. Now, since the completion of Interstate Highway 91, which passes within five miles of the front gate, the land is probably worth ten times that amount. He still smiles every time he talks about his initial investment.

• • • "If you're not connected to the yearly protein resurrection, the calues being born, the plants pushing up through the ground after the long winter, you haue a hard time

hauing any real hope for anything.. .

I'll stay on this piece of land as long as I can. When I work out there I know that land is what it's all based on. I know the sky, know when it's going to rain. You want to be in touch with something like this... " Ken Kesey, in an interview from his farm in Oregon

• • • Excerpts from a letter my grandfather sent the local tax assessors in 1961: "It is our intention to maintain this property as a permanent family investment as forest land cooperating with both state and federal authorities in the application of modem methods and practices of tree farming. ,

• • • Grandfather had visions of milking immediate profit from his purchase. He wasn't content to sit back and let time spiral the land's worth steadily upward-he hadn't bought it as real estate. In 1962 he commissioned a firm to take extensive aerial photos of the la.nd. Then he had a man from the U.S. Department of Agriculture look at the photos and walk the property with him to appraise the trees. Lumber: living, growing profit; waiting to be cut down, hauled out, and sold; red spruce, white spruce, northern hardwoods, white and red pine, balsam.

They found that several valuable stands of timber fringed the two acre pond. It was then that the war started, between my profit-seeking grandfather and the beavers.

• • • I felt incredibly powerful when I first broke the beaver dam. By pulling three or four sticks out of the dam's mud-packed base I was able to start the water spilling out. The rushing water then pulled loose more sticks and mud until tons of water escaped through the breach, emptying the 25 acre bog that the beavers had created around the main pond.

TheNewJoumal/April25,1975

page 13

The small stream at the pond's mouth became a chocolate-brown torrent; bits of sediment traveled downstream, under the barbed wire boundary, through the neighboring farm's upper pastures, under the Brownington Road, and into the long valley bisected by the highway.

* * * A yardstick stuck in the mud near the dock showed the progress of the war between my grandfather and the beavers. If the water level dropped below the number twenty-four it meant that the dam was broken and Grandfather was winning the battle to save his trees. But if the level rose, it meant that the dam held strong and the water was rising slowly, reaching out to drown new timber.

Grandfather and I would break the dam with pickaxes every time we came to the Pond Property, only to discover it rebuilt, stronger, the next time we came. We never saw the beavers. They worked at night and slept in their lodge during the day.

Occasionally we heard one of their firecracker tail-slaps in the distance, a warning signal they used whenever we got too close. One winter Grandfather dynamited their lodge and had a trapper lay out underwater snares and steel traps. The snares drowned three beavers; the trapper found a chewed off toe in one of the traps.

The beavers went away for a few years and Grandfather claimed victory, pointing with pride to a row of young tamarack trees that had sprouted in territory formerly held by the beavers. But the animals came back, the water level inched upward, and the tamaracks turned brittle-brown and died. Grandfather capitulated; today the pond is high and spreading towards other trees.

* * * The spirits of the former owners of the Pond Property still walk the land, especially at dawn, before the mist lifts off the water and s urrounding bog. Fifty years ago the land supported three farms: the Ainsboro Farm, the Lynch Farm , and the Napoleon Stone Farm. Only the rock foundations of the farmhouses remain, nothing remains of the barns.

An occasional rusted pail, or stovetop, or maple sugaring implement still pokes through the leaves on the ground. The pastures have all reverted to forest.

During the 1940's a Jesuit Priest named Father Fortin turned part of the Pond Property into a summer camp for his parish. He cut walking trails through the woods, stocked the pond with rainbow trout, and bought an oversized rowboat that could hold twenty fishermen. The trout all went downstream one spring when the beaver dam broke, and today a sign tacked on a tree near the water sorrowfully declares NO FISH. Some of

the Catholics in nearby Derby Line still consider the Pond Property theirs. Every fall whole groups of them break down the fence (ignoring the posted signs) and hunt rabbits and ruffed grouse.

• * •

maples, nearly 3000 trees, for maple syrup Letting the land sit. Keeping it wild, knowing it's yours. 0

David Sleeper, soon to be unemployed, would like uery much to spend the rest of his life raising trees in Vermont.

After the beavers' victory, Grandfather never tried to do much else with the Pond Property. He cleared some land and planted spruce seedlings ten years ago and claims he can sell them today for eight dollars apiece. He's old now, over eighty, and his memory and stamina play tricks on him. Some days he wants to sell the land, some days he wants to buy more. He doesn't realize that when he threatens to sell the property he's tampering with my future design, my Tara.

My father used to sight his rifles during family outings to the property. He would concentrate on his big varmint rifle, sitting at a table and aiming at targets set up two hundred yards across the pond. He would give me and my two brothers a carton of ammunition each and a slender .22 calibre rifle and let us plink at lily pads and beer cans. We'd blast at the water for hours. When we finished , late in the afternoon, even the crickets were quiet.

* * * Seeing your family's name on the POSTED POSTED POSTED signs that ring your property gives rise to thoughts of the future. How to justify owning 400 acres of land (a part of me says that there is something almost evil in keeping that much land), how to change it, how to make it pay. Future plans, all open-ended and hazy: •lumbering • raising Christmas trees • stocking the pond with fish again, refurbishing the cottage and renting it to hunters and fishermen • bulldozing new access roads and selling segments of the land • tapping the three groves of sugar

o)ol

I

pagel4

TheNewJoumal/ Apri125, 1975

The Brewster Years: A Question of Survival • Blue Collar and the Old Blue • National Lampoon's Big Boff Machine • Can Yalies Write? • The Images That Remain • Making It in a 'Man's World' • Tales from the Judiciary Committee • Reveille on the Old Campus • Finding the Fluid Middle

It Was a Good Year.

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This year over 25,000 readers enjoyed our articles and our ads. We distribute to every student on campus, to faculty and to administration.

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(continued from page 2) departmental appointments and promotions and so on.

However, the department has been accused of many lapses, and most often of condoning excessive brutality and illegal a.r rest procedures as standard practice. Charges of perjury in applying for search warrants, alteration of warrants once issued, search without warrant, and false arrest have appeared within increasing frequency in the pages of the New Haven papers since 1971.

"This may be ordinary relative to what goes on in other towns," notes New Haven lawyer John R. Williams, "but it's extraordinary relative to our expectations." Williams and his partner, Michael Avery, are the men most responsible for keeping the issue of police misconduct alive in New Haven. Since the fall of 1971, they have filed and tried a unique series of damage suits. The suits are designed to curtail illegal practices by bringing them into the open and by making them costly to the department.

A very and Williams discovered their common concern abou t police invasion of civil rights when both wer e defending minor figures in the Black Panther P arty trials of 1970.

Avery was a recen t Yale CollegeYale Law School graduate working for t he Connecticu t Civil Liberties Union ; W illiamshad recentlylefthis corporate law practice to work for New Raven's highly regarded legal assistance program. After the trials, they became partners in a firm now know as Williams, A very and Wynn.

Most lawyers will not go out of their way to bring a damage action against the police. There isn't much money in it, and it can disrupt a smoot h working r elationship with the police, which may b e essen tial in other areas of a law practice.

Besides, individual lawsuits are not generally considered effective against a well-es tablished pattern of misconduct. But Avery and Williams had a hunch that t his method of restraining the police has not been successful because it had never been tried on a large enough scale.

They began taking police lawsuits in preference to other cases. Their clients were mostly poor, and the attorneys accepted fees on a contingency basis: no fees unless an award was made. Now, they have also oriented their criminal practice toward cases involving possible police misconduct.

Today, with three dozen suits filed, and a dozen tried with an outstanding fifty-per-cent success rate, A very and Williams are the focus of police-consciousness in New Haven.

Together they run a clinic class at the Law School in which students work on police lawsuits; A very has taught a Calhoun College seminar on " Police and Police Conduct"; Williams is being sued for hbel by Chief DiLieto, and the J oumal-Courier comments that he is " noted for get ting his hands into police business."

The method of fighting misconduct in the courts has proved to have applications beyond the defense of Fourth Amendment rights. For example, while defending a police press agent who was ostensibly being discharged from t he department for shoplifting, Williams alleged t hat th e departm ent had tried to involve his clien t in a scheme to misrepresen t auto t heft statistics so that t he p olice could qualify for more Federal Funds. This brought Williams two unexpected carbon· copied arrest reports dated June 1972, app arently stolen from police headquarters. The name of the offense on each report had been crossed out at headquarters and replaced with that of a milder offense. Williams sent the reports to the judge and gave copies to the press, t hus helping to explain how Biagio DiLieto achieved a greater reduction in serious crimes t han any other police chief in t he nat ion in 197 2. DiLieto's d ramatic su ccess also m eant more Federal funds for the New Haven department.

Similarly, in a recent suit naming the Board of Police Commissioners as plaintiffs, Williams alleged that two members of the Board are in conflict of interest, since one (Dr. Luca Celentano) is in partnership with a police physician and the other

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(Clarence Butcher) is the department alarming number of students~ -~·. tailor. The suit strikes at the heart of simply missing the point of a Yale · the misconduct issue because the education. Behind all the surface disBoard is a civilian body appointed by orders-over-crowded libraries and the Mayor and responsible for overthe growing concern for higher seeing the conduct of the departgrades-lies the sad fact that too ment; historically, according to many students have forgotten what Michael Avery, "they have done they are doing at a liberal arts uniwhat the Chief wanted them to do." versity.

Have the lawsuits been successful in their original purpose of protecting citizens from brutality, illegal search and arrest? John Williams feels that there has been a significant change, but there is still plenty of room for improvement. "There have been fewer warrantless searches of late," he says, "and certain dangerous officers have been placed in less sensitive positions, so that extreme examples of brutality are less frequent."

A very concurs, but feels that lawsuits alone can never accomplish all that needs to be done. "I'd like to see citizens' groups follow through on some of the work we do," says Avery; "I'd like to see citizens ask why officers found guilty of perjury are allowed to rE"main on the force, for example." (The reference is to Michael Giovanni, a detective found The dangers of this "forgetfulguilty of false statement in a falseness" were first seen three years ago arrest suit that A very tried on behalf by a select "Study Group on Yale of Yale-New Haven inhalation thera- College." In its controversial and farpist Austin Martin. Chief DiLieto ranging "Dahl Report" - published has stated that he does not intend to early in the fall of 1972-the com· bring departmental charges against mit tee recognized that the faculty's Giovanni.) participation in Yale College "To change the natur.e of what the involves a number of necessary but rather delicate "tensions." police do would require a concerend citizenry," says Avery. "People It recognized that the central tendon't seem to understand the imporsion defining Yale College arises tance of the Fourth Amendment when top-rate scholars, professionals right to privacy; they don't realize whose interest lie outside the univer· that if that right is denied to drug sity, are asked to teach undergraduaddicts it can be denied to anybody. ates. Without this tension, the colAnd you can't really protect people's lege would not exist. And most rights for them." 0 importantly, many of the Dahl Report recommendations arose out Jon Wiener of the conviction that in order for this balance to be maintained, the Jon WienerisanAssociateEditor faculty must constantly be reminded of the Yale Graduate-Professional. as to what it is doing at Yale.

The report didn't get very far. The faculty refused to accept it as a definition of the future goals of Yale edu· cation, and it now sits idly collect· Restoring the balance ing dust on the bookshelves of SSS. But if, as Yale College Dean Horace Taft suggests, the committee's insights were "ahead of their time" Once, during every freshman assemin 1972, they are proving more and bly, Kingman Brewster mentions more timely this spring. If not in its something about Yale being a place for "intellectual growth and develop- specific recommendations, the spirit of this repo1t speaks directly to Psy· ment," a place where "every time chology Professor William Kessen's you think you have an answer," recent observation that the college is you're shown to be wrong. That, no longer a "place to be" but a along with a glance at the "guide" place to go on from. " It explains lines" at the front of the course of William Sloane Coffin's Easter Sun· study booklet constitutes the full day blast against the "pygmy world" extent of our indoctrination to four law boards and chemistry tests. And years of the liberal arts. One whole it confirms our own foreboding sense class of seniors prepares to graduate this spring without ever having been that even the eight-course credit/ fail option will not ease the compeexposed to a formal definition of the tition in Biology 11. purposes of a Yale education.

By implication alone, the Dahl In fact, all around us are signs Report suggests that as students, we that without any such "formal" have forgotten that our own particidefinition, and without any desire to pation in the college involves many figure one out for themselves, an

page 15

of the same "tensions" that the committee pointed out in the faculty's involvement with Yale.

Yale has always asked its students to strike a balance between distribution and concentration in their program of study, between asserting their own creativity and being receptive to new ideas. But today, the central "tension" in the student's involvement with Yale College lies between his own ever-growing inclinations towards professionalism, and the almost anti-professional attitude demanded by a liberal arts education.

It exists as a tension because neither extreme makes the best use of the resources which Yale provides.

While one extreme looks past the university, turning it into a mere stepping-stone to careers in law and medicine, the other asks the student to more-or-less suspend his professional interests for four years and dabble without any pressure of commitment in a number of different areas. Instead, it is the balance between some sense of professional direction on the one hand, and a willingness to experiment on the other that best suits Yale's unique academic resources.

All around us, however, are signs that this balance has been upset, indications that the problems Yale now faces lie not within the structure of its resources but with the attitude with which students are approaching those resources. This sense that the "essential tensions" no longer sustain a liberal arts attitude in t he college has led many of the more perceptive administrators to a growing concern that Yale education is reaching a "crisis point." Out of this sense of imbalance, for example, Kessen published an article in the Yale Daily News last December on "Murdering the present."

Deploring what he termed the growing "ideology of promotion" at Yale, Kessen pointed out what in fact happens when stud ents forget that they are at a liberal arts univer· sity rather than, say, a six-year premedical program. "At Yale today," wrote Kessen, " the promotional principle flourishes. Our libraries, faculties, stones are becoming part of a waystation, a marvelously decorated and frantically active waiting room."

The real tragedy lies not simply in the overcrowding of the Cross Campus library, but in the fact that the push for grades and the eye towards graduate schools is undermining the spirit of the liberal arts education that Yale is best set up to accomodate.

And the answer lies not in any "formal" definition of the purposP. of a Yale education, not in another Dahl Report to be rejected and forgotten.

It can be reached only through a continuing and searching discourse among students and faculty as to just what their involvement in Yale education is all about.

Ever since the faculty rejected the Dahl Report in 1972, this spirit of

self-reflection, of a dialogue in which one's own experience receives constant assessment among friends and professors, has been missing most at Yale. Without it, there can be no hope of preserving the true spirit of a liberal arts education against the "promotional" tendencies of the times. Only a renewed concern with our own involvement in Yale can restore the tensions that in many ways provide the life and vitality of the college experience. No faculty committee can design it. It must come from the hearts of those students who are just now awakening to the uniqueness of what Yale Univer· sity has to offer. 0 John Taft John Taft is a sophomore in Berkeley College.

End of the season madness Thank you Sternbach, Sleeper, Denton, Jacobson, Jacoby, Brian Fenton, Yergin, Bergin, Roel, Rohrer, Leamon, Solomon, Daniel Schorer, Strasser, Stilman, Sprunt and Yang, Olcott, W oolcott, Strunk and Laing, Hanson, Johnson, Radolf, Weisman, Levin, Martin, Suisman, Iseman, Russell, Cecil, Kueffner, Liechty, Segall, Steinberg, Cohen, Fichte, Panzer, Danziger, Ressmeyer, Brewster, Benefield, Fairfield, Redding, Wooster, Gephart, Miller, Troncelliti, Mcintyre, Goldberger, Kelley, Beaty, Csar, Carr, Thomas, Noland, Raub, Taub, Cookie Polan, Buckley, Brinkley, Ballou, Hertz, Blumberg, Umberg, Liberman, Gewirtz, Guida, Rider, Sirabella, Dunlap, AI Capp, Pirandello, Battell, Brettell, Brendan Behan, Barnum, Farnam, Coffin, Sheehan, Jewett, Jowett, Giamatti, Kezerian, Zinsser, Zorthian, Turekian, Yossarian, Kramer, Beaser, Harding, Marks, Bayh, Bey, King, Homans, Rego, Parks, Ribuffo, Arlow, Conniff, Psacharopoulos, Diehl, Rotenberg, Howze, Geanakoplos, Scarf, Maynard, Leonard, Lee, Warren, Pollens, Moen, Dee, Lufkin, Rivkin, Baskin, Barkan, Vamos, Ramos, Phillip Larkin, Lyman, Wyman, Errecarte, Eliel, Lawless. Pruess. Brice and Tenniel, Fanton, Ecklund, Chauncy, Martin Griffin, Meryl Streep, Pierce, Fellner & Smith, Grant, Robley, Schay, and Barker, Hawthorne, G~eenhorn, and Ma Parker.

Wynne, Moore, Gore, Gilman and Tandy, Candida Piel, Indira Gandhi, Conrad, Gootrad, Sculley, Bones, Gaines, Raines, Devlin, Jones, Russem, Rosen, Warner, Brothers, Cr..:las, Pappas, hapless others, Glinka. Smouha, Flink, Boorsch, Ruff, Bick, Fvote, Landers, Heard, enough; Gnomon, Clay, Tzur, Gold, Frye, " Hay,Kyte; Summers, Blessings, Thieu, Hall and Sewall, Wilder Knight.

JonEtra JonEtra says he knows everyone's first name. Thanks for everything, Jon.-D.S.

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