The Personal Library - Part 2

                                                 

                                                        Mikhail Bulgakov 1937
                                                        Wikipedia Photo                                                                              


  "Is Donald Trump a fascist?" The conservative analyst Ross Douthat asks this in a New York Times column*. His answer "Yes."* Would the American people ever elect a fascist President? We may soon have a definitive answer. In the meantime one can read Philip Roth's The Plot Against America (2004). Roth explores the "what if" American aviation icon Charles Lindbergh, who also happened to be proto-fascist and anti-Semitic, was elected President of the United States in 1940. How would the nation have been governed? Roth has authored 27 books and numerous short stories and essays. My collection contains but two - the other is American Pastoral (1997) - a father, daughter and the collapsing American dream.
     I feel the need to reiterate - a former colleague Dr. Nathan Cervo, once suggested that for a satisfying and complete life, a personal library of no more than 50 books/authors is required. This post continues to identify the works in my "50" collection. Books I consider "personal friends" - volumes so important their presence is constantly required for re-reading, skimming or reference. My count is now at 48 books by 11 authors.
     I read Mikhail Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita late in life - twice so far.  I am so attached to this book that it must be in my office, within reach at all times. Written during the late 1920s, Bulgakov burned the manuscript in a rush of fear. Then he decided to rewrite it during Stalin's Great Terror of the 1930s. Set in Moscow this tale is absolutely timeless and is the definitive example of what we now refer to as "magical realism".**
     My Russian collection includes Tolstoy's War and Peace; Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov; Pasternak's Doctor Zhivago; Sholokhov's And Quiet Flows the Don; and Henri Troyat's Chekhov. As a reference source I have Christopher Andrew and Vasili Mitrokhin's The Mitrokhin Archive and the Secret History of the KGB. Upon returning from a showing of the movie "Trumbo" I immediately consulted the Mitrokhin index. Dalton Trumbo is not listed - the KGB cared not.
     The "westerns" section of my collection contains just two titles and they are bookends for the entire genre: Larry McMurtry's Lonesome Dove (1985, Pulitzer Prize) and Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian (1985). McMurtry's storied cattle drive by Captains Call and McCrae from Texas to Montana is populated with flawed heroes, brutal villains, the unscrupulous, the weak and stupid. It is a hopeful parade of humanity with some to cheer and others to curse. The hit miniseries ran repeatedly on every other TV channel for years. In contrast Cormac McCarthy's novel is one of abject despair - the "kid" and the "judge"and violence that attains pornographic levels in America's Southwest of the 1850s. One reads looking unsuccessfully for a flash of hope. It is a wretched display of humanity. But Blood Meridian does emit the rank odor of obnoxious truth - it is on my book shelf. But may it never become a movie.
     For a post-apocalyptic vision I turn not to McCarthy (e.g. The Road) but to Russell Hoban's Riddley Walker (1980). Riddley is a 12 year old writing a narrative about his smashed and nuclear razed world in a phonetic vernacular. ". . . they got boats in the air and picters on the wind. Counting cleverness is what it were." Riddley's hand-to-mouth society is also on the verge of reinventing gunpowder and religion.
     Working for my biologist daughter Catherine as a field assistant in Costa Rica has dramatically shaped my values - in addition to placing my name in a couple of crucial footnotes. My most cherished book is E.O. Wilson's Naturalist (1994). The tile page has an inscription: "For Catherine Lindell, Fellow teacher and naturalist, Edward O. Wilson" and accompanied by a small, hand drawn ant. OK - this is not my book - it is Catherine's and I am just holding it for her until I die. My naturalist section also includes books by Stephen J. Gould Wonderful Life; Richard Dawkins River Out of Eden;; and previously mentioned Elizabeth Kolbert and Dave Beetle. For reference there are two thick guides to Costa Rica and Carl Zimmer's Evolution. On the reading table is Carl Safina's Beyond Words.
     When in a mood to seek religious succor, I do not consult the Bible or the Quran, though I have owned both in the past. They strike me as confusing. If I desire theological thought I turn to John Milton's Paradise Lost. If my mood is vengeful Dante's Inferno is my volume of choice. For clarity in theoretical matters I usually begin with George Sabine's A History of Political Theory - always within reach.
     The copy of Six by Seuss I am now holding is held together by wrapping tape - still pages struggle to fall away. I have repeatedly read from it: The Lorax; How the Grinch Stole Christmas; And to Think I Saw it in Mulberry Street; to seven grandchildren, their friends and classmates. Next to it on the bookshelf is A.A. Milne's The Complete Tales of Winnie-the-Pooh. Not as badly beaten up as Seuss, Pooh's book has also been repeatedly read. It contains clippings inserted from other sources. When Christopher Robin died at age 75, Czeslaw Milosz wrote Themes, that ends with:
    ". . . I had a grey beard, then I grew old, hunched, and I walked with a cane, and then I died. It was probably just a dream, it seemed quite unreal. The only real thing was you, old bear, and our shared fun. Now I won't go anywhere, even if I am called for an afternoon snack."***
     Sara Mileski at age 11 an aspiring poet, added a drawing of Pooh and a poem The Bear that concludes:
    "So bears are impossible to beat. Listen to this folks that bears are not too scary and hairy but also very kind and sweet."
     These are certainly not the only books I own. But if suddenly whisked off to a prolonged, wintry exile these 70 volumes by 31 authors would hopefully be my companions - plus one copy of Shakespeare's plays.
     What is in your library?

*NYT December 3, 2015 **Translation by Pevear and Volokhonsky 1997.
***NYRB February 6, 1997

The Personal Library - Part 1

                                                                           

                                                  The Rice Portrait claimed to be Jane Austen
                                                                       Wikipedia
                                                     

                                                    National Israel Museum

 Dr. Nathan Cervo, Assistant Professor of English at Hartwick College many years ago and between peaceful challenges to local police authority, emphasized that in life one needed to own a personal library of about 50 books. His reasoning is lost from memory but the number "50" stuck. Further, I am not sure Dr. Cervo who said "books" might also have meant "authors". But the books one keeps do much to define us. The fewer "books" (or is it "authors") the sharper the personal definition - maybe. So curious reader I am about to expose elements of my inner "person" - indications of how my mind works - what authors are ingested, valued and recommended. Be prepared to be shocked.
     Between office and home I once owned possibly three hundred volumes. In academic circles this is a modest amount. One colleague with over a thousand volumes was forced to store boxes of books in my attic. (The record should belong to the great Argentine writer and philosopher Alberto Manguel. He had a personal library of 30,000 volumes.*) In 2000, I began to ruthlessly cull my collection down towards 50 volumes. Selection criteria were simple but stringent. Is the book so critical that I cannot tolerate the thought of not being able to access it immediately? In future years will I re-read or at least consult the book occasionally?
     Multiple books by a single author create an immediate problem. But I have sensibly resolved it by counting books and authors separately. Patrick O'Brian's magnificent Aubrey and Maturin novels of the British Navy fighting the Napoleonic Wars - I own the 20 volumes. Also possessed are Allan Furst's 12 espionage novels centered in the politically claustrophobic Europe of the 1930s - Dark Star is my favorite. I became emotionally over attached to Vilhelm Moberg's The Emigrants. The four novels recount the migration in the 1850s of the family Nilsson from Ljuder Parish in Smaland, Sweden to Chisago Lake Settlement, Center City, Minnesota. I am the son of a Swedish immigrant. So each volume is especially important. Thus revealed - 36 books by 3 authors.
     I own a "Nook" purchased three years ago that now carries a digital collection of 24 volumes. But of these there are only six that I consider part of "my library" and regret not having purchased in paper editions. I have trouble accessing material in digital books even utilizing the "e-bookmarks". Adding and accessing marginal notes is much more complicated than working with a paper volume. Then again the Nook seems to require nearly constant recharging. Finally, I like the feel of a paper book in my hands. The Nook did arrive with a free copy of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice first
published in 1813. My initial reaction was condescension. A man who inhales Patrick O'Brian and the Napoleonic War at sea could not possibly enjoy Jane Austin. Still, one afternoon with my arrogance and chauvinism locked in I began;
     "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife".
     Great Britain had recently defeated Napoleon at Waterloo. The United States had brazenly declared war and troops of Great Britain would soon be invading the US and burning Washington. But in Jane Austen's England life was focused on a proper courtship resulting in nuptials and an appropriate spouse. I freakin loved the book - cannot be more than two rooms away from it.
     There are five additional books on the Nook that I must now purchase in paper editions:
     Kai Bird American Prometheus 2005 - J. Robert Oppenheimer and the beginning of the atomic age; Stephen Greenblatt The Swerve 2011 - Lucretius, the atom, the "swerve" and the real beginning of the atomic age; Philip K. Dick Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? 1968 - Artificial intelligence and the human species - known by the movie title The Bladerunner. Elizabeth Kolbert The Sixth Extinction 2014 - Anticipating the end of much of earth's biodiversity (and perhaps the beginning of the end of humans and the atomic age); Hilary Mantel Wolf Hall 2009. After reading this account of Thomas Cromwell's life and times I realized that it and successor works would be in my library. In 2012, I purchased a paper edition of Bring Up The Bodies and await the final volume. (See "Character Adjustments; Finch, More, Cromwell and Satan" Musingsfor7.blogspot.com - July 2015).
     My library count is now 43 books by 9 authors - my shadowy, inner character continues to emerge.
     During the mid - 1990s, I experienced an emotional incident - a personal meltdown in the Oneonta office of the NYS Department of Motor Vehicles. What transpired could have been a scene from Franz Kafka's The Castle, The Trial or Amerika, all volumes in my possession. Since that incident my automobile license has read "KAFKA1". It celebrates a magnificent, world class writer while issuing a stinging rebuke to the NYS DMV. It is also hoped that this gesture would cause Kafka
(now certainly stressed by the beatific bureaucracy) to perhaps applaud.
     With 46 books by 10 authors identified this post must close. But critical questions remain to be answered in the next post - Part 2: What about Russian writers? Is there any pornography? Did the bible make the cut?

*Robert Poque Harrison "The Ultimate Reader" New York Review of Books October 22, 2015.
   

Our Bats

                             

                                                   
                                            Little Brown Bat infected with WNS
                                                       Wikimedia photo
      It is the worst of times for Myotis lucifugus, better known as "little brown bats". A few years back on two summer nights I had the good fortune to capture three that intruded into bedrooms of two houses in Fly Creek, New York. Method of capture was simple - one flew directly into my hand-held
pillow case. The other two were encouraged to fly in a lighted, closed off room. Once exhausted they landed and I picked them up with a pillow case. As I gently felt for one bat under fabric and touched a lump - it cried. Carefully I took each outside and with a soft swoosh they were gone into darkness. These were my three rescues - I remember their fear and fragile beauty.
     Since then and hopefully learning - bats are enormously valuable, rendering great service; ". . . one little brown bat can ingest from 600 to 1000 mosquito size insects every hour." Overall the suppression of insects by bats provides a service to American agriculture valued at between 4 and 50 billion dollars. *
     At about the same time as my rescues, White Nose Syndrome (the fungus Pseudogymnoaseus destructians) was discovered in caves in central New York State (2006-2008). These caves used by bats for winter hibernation are known as hibernacula. WNS infects a hibernating bat's muzzle, ears and wings. They awaken, burn energy, become dehydrated, emaciated and dead. Species affected besides the "little browns" are small footed bats (Myotis leibii), Indiana bats (Myotis sodalist) and others. The impact upon bats has been devastating. Since WNS emerged the bat population in the Northeastern United States has declined by 80% - with more than 6,000,000 killed. The little brown bat may now be en route to extinction. **
     The Nature Conservancy owns the Aleolus Cave near Dorset, Vermont. Elizabeth Kolbert suggests that it may be the largest hibernaculum in New England and used by bats for winter hibernation since the end of the last ice age. Kolbert describes the scene inside the Aleolus Cave in 2009 as "horrific". She writes, "The ground was covered with dead bats; some of the ice knobs had bats frozen into them. There were torpid bats roosting on the ceiling, and also wide awake ones, which would take off and fly by or sometimes right into us." Bats are very social - one scientist watched a live bat trying to nuzzle into a group of dead ones. In 2013 the Vermont Fish and Wildlife Department posted signs at Aleolus, "This Cave is Closed Until Further Notice". Spreading from bat to bat and cave to cave WNS by September 2014 had reached 25 states and 5 Canadian provinces.***
     The most recent issue of the Nature Conservancy Magazine (Oct/Nov 2015) contains an article "The Battle for Bracken Cave". It describes how conservationists and community members have united and successfully protected Bracken Cave, located near San Antonio from a plan to build 3500 homes nearby. Bracken Cave for eight months each year is home to ". . . the densest concentration of mammals on the planet." During this period between 15 and 20 million Mexican free tail bats fly out of the Cave each night in pursuit of 140 tons of agricultural insect pests. The exodus requires three hours and is a tourist attraction. Bracken Cave is also owned by the Nature Conservancy.****
     I appreciate the efforts of the San Antonio conservationists, community leaders and support the Nature Conservancy, but was staggered by the absence of any mention of the WNS. Is the Mexican free tail bat immune to the fungus? Is Bracken Cave too warm to support WNS fungus? What is the prognosis for Bracken Cave and its millions of bats? So I clicked off the following email to the NC magazine. "Question: How can you publish an article about bats e.g. 'Bracken Cave'  in 2015 and not mention the catastrophe of white nose syndrome?"
     Eric Seeger, a Senior Editor promptly replied. ". . . While doing research for this article I asked many experts familiar with Bracken Cave whether white nose syndrome was a subject we should address in the article. They unanimously said no, and here is the general reason they gave: hibernation vs migration. White nose syndrome is a fungus that leads to the death of hibernating bats . . .  the bat population at Bracken Cave consists mostly of  Brazilian/Mexican Free Tail Bats. This is a migratory species that does not hibernate, so its populations have not been affected by white nose syndrome. And the experts I spoke to felt it will not become a threat to this species." Mr. Seeger also attached a link to a research report that claims some success in treating WNS.
     http://www.nature.org/ourinitiatives/regions/northamerica/unitedstates/tennessee/success-in-treating-white-nose-syndrome.xm
     My reply in part: ". . . As for the general reason . . . many experts gave . . . I hope to hell they are right."

     Note; Bats and Rabies. The US Center for Disease Control reports that there are 1 or 2 rabies cases in the US each year. Of the 19 cases between 1997 and 2006, 17 were associated with bats. Among an unspecified number of bats captured by humans or cats and submitted for evaluation only 6 per cent tested positive for rabies.

*USGS/WildlifeHealth/WNS. Also FloridaEverglades.com
**Elizabeth Kolbert The Sixth Extinction:An Unnatural History Holt: NY; 2014 pp 180-186. Also USGS/WLH/WNS
***Elizabeth Kolbert. Also Wikipedia/WNS
****Nature Conservancy Magazine Oct/Nov 2015 pp 50-59.

Dave Beetle's Adirondacks

                                               

                                 

                                                Fifth & Sixth Lakes
                                                AndyArthur.org photo

     Sixty-seven years after initial publication I finally read Dave Beetle's Up Old Forge Way and West Canada Creek *. In 1946 and 1948 each was chronicled by Dave in a series of columns published by the Utica Observer Dispatch. In 1971, around the time of his death they were combined into a single volume  and republished. The book is a natural and social history leavened with considerable gossip - a snap shot of people who settled in New York State's Adirondack region, specifically the Moose River system - North, Middle and South branches.. Reading it today is time travel - straight back - the people of whom he writes are "frozen in time" and their communities today dramatically altered.
     I first met Dave when I was age 8 or so. He and his wife were friends of my parents via the Utica Tramp and Trail Club - a vigorous hiking, canoeing, kayaking and skiing club with a solid social component. My mother and father were introduced at a T&T event. Organized in the late 1920s it flourishes still - I think.
     David H. Beetle was an educated man - Phi Beta Kappa from Hamilton College. He had a slender frame topped with black hair parted in the middle, combed straight back and a thick mustache. Dave was exceptionally fit - able to hike or kayak miles in Adirondack wilderness to visit an isolated lake or a rarely climbed peak. Before commencing a 16 mile trek Dave writes of a warning from the NY State District Ranger.
     " ' It's going to be cold, cloudy and wet for the next three days' he told us on the May morning we were slated to go to the place where the West Canada begins. 'The trail is a mess. It will be a dismal trip. Do you still want to go? ' Well we didn't come from a long line of Martha's Vineyard whalers to be bothered by a little thing like the weather. ' Sure we'll go' we said cheerfully. So we went and the weather was everything the Ranger promised - and maybe a few gallons more." (WCC p. 15)
     The Fulton Chain of Lakes - my mother and father tried each year to spend his one week vacation camping (i.e. tenting) somewhere in the Adirondacks. Through the years my brothers, sister and I helped our father pitch a heavy canvas wall tent (no floor - had to be Army surplus) in many sites including but not limited to Hinckley, Piseco and Eaton lakes, Eagle Bay, 3rd, 7th, and 8th lakes. Dave writes of the life and times of permanent and seasonal residents in these and other Big Moose locations up to the end of the Second World War, As for natural beauty he identifies places not to be missed, e.g. the peak that offers one of the finest views available in the Adirondack Park. Dave calls it the Fulton Chain's No. 1 landmark; Bald Mountain.
     "You can puff up the mountain in from 15 minutes to an hour depending upon how energetic you are or how deep the snow is. The summer route is a well-defined path with planks, ladders, cables and convenient tree roots. It starts from the Old Forge - Eagle Bay Road about opposite the Bald Mountain House Drive. . . . The winter route starts 100 yards or so up the Rondaxe Lake Road and bears to the left. We tackled that on skis; got a gorgeous, wintry view from the top; saw a deer floundering in the snow; made the descent without a single spill - something we thought was pretty good until we found an Old Forge ski folder grading it as a 'novice trail' ". (UOFW p. 95)
     On my finest day it never occurred to me to go up and down the Bald Mt./Rondaxe trail in winter on cross country skis.
     During the 1966 New York State Assembly session I saw Dave a few times in the Capital Building. He was now an editor for the Albany Knickerbocker News. I was a staffer for a one term Assembly man and future Utica mayor, Eddie Hanna. Aware that Dave was around I would try and unearth a tidbit of information that might interest him and also help our District. (e.g. At the time creation of a Hinckley Lake State Park was under consideration by the Department of Environmental Conservation.) But my boss was a "maverick" and in the kingdom of Assembly Speaker Anthony Travia and Democratic Majority leader Stanley Steingut we were privy to almost nothing.
     Summer in the late 1960s - my wife Annette and I with two young daughters  were camping (i.e. tenting) in Maine's magnificent Arcadia National Park. Shopping one afternoon in Bar Harbor we met the Beetles coming out of a tourist shoppe. Dave had remarried and was with his wife and four (?) year old daughter. They were staying in a motel and we invited them over to our tent site to share a campfire. To my immense pleasure they came that evening. For a couple of hours we sat in darkness before a perfect log fire. The little girls roasted marsh mellows and then poked hot spots with long sticks. We talked, watching sparks streak up and vanish. Dave with his slow melodic delivery mused of state politics, the Tramp and Trail Club and of course the Adirondacks; the mountains, the lakes when frozen for skiing or liquid for canoeing, the rivers, bogs, the bears, storms . . . .
     Closing Dave's book I sort of returned - the world of 2015 seemed a slightly darker, emptier place.

* David H. Beetle Up Old Forge Way/West Canada Creek North Country Books: Lakemont and Old Forge, NY; 1972.
See also; AndyArthur.org  for excellent photos of the region.

A Hate Crime in Cooperstown, N.Y.

                                         

Excerpts from the Statement by Judge Brian Burns.
The complete Statement appears in the Daily Star - Oneonta, N.Y. July 23, 2011.

Note: This decision by Judge Burns was sustained in 2015, on an appeal by Pacherille to the New York State Court of Appeals by a vote of 6-4.

     ". . . On April 2, 2010 Anthony Pacherille attempted to murder Wesley Lippitt by shooting at him not once, but twice and then he turned his weapon on himself. In Anthony's own words he chose to attempt to murder Wesley Lippitt because Wesley Lippitt is an African-American. Racism is an ugly and hateful belief and most decent well-meaning people find it hard to believe that a neighbor or friend such as Anthony Pacherille could harbor such beliefs. . . . It would be easier to believe Anthony Pacherille's actions were caused by mental illness, or any other reason except for racism. But to blame Anthony Pacherille's actions on anything but racism is to ignore his own statements and the reality of Anthony Pacherille's experience. . . . He wrote a letter explaining his beliefs and the reasons for his actions on April 2, 2010. The following are Anthony's words from a letter which was produced and entered into evidence before the Grand Jury. . . . 'I don't even want to live in this world. Niggers and Jews will bring this country down but no one seems to see it coming. All of these social parasites - Niggers, Jews, Mexicans, South Americans. The Nazis were the last chance to secure the power of Europe and the white race. I don't want to live in a world where there is no white majority. The meaning of life died when Europe's power declined and fascism failed. There is no point in living. I can no longer sit here and watch the blacks and Jews taking over everything that white people created. The damn Jews and Niggers have won. My last words will be Hitler lives.'
     . . . It has been argued that his attempted murder of Wesley Lippitt was a onetime aberration caused by his mental illness and that Anthony presents no danger to the community. These arguments ignore the facts and are not valid.
     At his request I've thoroughly reviewed the psychiatric reports submitted by Anthony in preparation for today's sentencing. . . . Anthony related to this doctor that he felt that he was better than his classmates and that he was more intelligent than most people. He told this doctor that on the day in question he knew exactly what he was doing. . . . This doctor also specifically asked Anthony questions about his potential future conduct. He absolutely denied having thoughts of trying to kill someone else in the future - except when he is irritated. When asked what he would be doing if not in jail he told the doctor he was afraid that 'something would happen again, something bad.'
     . . . That's not to say however,that Anthony does not suffer from mental illness. It is clear that he does. The scope and severity of Anthony's mental illness has been an issue throughout these proceedings. . . . The Court repeatedly scheduled hearings to give Mr. Pacherille the opportunity to demonstrate the extent of his psychiatric needs. Defense counsel repeatedly asked for these hearings to be adjourned and ultimately withdrew them altogether.
     . . . The Court wanted to be assured that Anthony was competent to make decisions in this case. Accordingly, the Court on its own, ordered a competency evaluation under Article 730 of the Criminal Procedure Law. This is an independent evaluation submitted directly to the Court. . . . in short, after considering these independent evaluations, as well as other evidence in the record at the time the defendant entered his plea, the Court found that the defendant was unquestionably competent to stand trial in this case and equally competent to enter a plea bargain. Significantly, he was competent to evaluate and withdraw his claim that he was not guilty of the crime due to a mental disease or defect.
     There can be no question but that our nation has a troubled history of racism. Nor can there be any question that our nation is devoted to the ideal and philosophy that all people are created equal and that their worth is not determined by the color of their skin. This ideal of equality and opportunity is the beacon that draws people from all over the world to America.
When Anthony Pacherille chose to kill Wesley Lippitt because of Wesley's racial heritage, his conduct reverberated far beyond Wesley and his family and has impacted the entire community. So the response from the community to this crime must be as serious as the crime itself. It must include a lengthy period of incarceration so that it is clear racist and bigoted views are rejected in their entirety. (It) is also necessary so that Wesley Lippitt knows that he is a valued member of our community and that his scars, both internal and external, are not and will not be forgotten. . . .
     But it is also true that our system of justice requires a consideration of the defendant's individual circumstances. Anthony Pacherille is a teenager and perhaps lacks maturity and experience to appreciate how destructive his views and actions are. In addition, Anthony Pacherille undoubtedly suffers from one or more mental illnesses. His psychological needs, coupled with his age and the possibility of rehabilitation are mitigating factors that justify a deviation from the maximum. I approve a reduction from the 25 years he could have received had he gone to trial and been convicted, to less than half - 11 years - with credit for the year he has already served. . . . It must be noted that his mental illness does not justify his conduct or excuse  his actions . . . To suggest otherwise does a grave disservice to the approximately 40 million Americans who suffer from some sort of mental illness at any given time and do not commit acts of extreme violence and hatred. Let me be clear - depression does not cause racism. Anxiety does not cause anti Semitism. A bi-polar disorder does not cause pro-fascism. And none of them cause a person to attempt murder.
     Even though Anthony Pacherille agreed to plead guilty, as an adult and serve an 11 year sentence in return for the District Attorney reducing or dismissing every charge against him, he now asks the court to vacate (that is essentially erase) his conviction and sentence him to little or no additional jail time as a youthful offender. The court has considered this request and denies it. . . .
     Based on the foregoing, it is the ORDER of the COURT that Anthony Pacherille serve a determinate period of incarceration in the New York State Department of Corrections System of 11 years; it is further ORDERED that he provide a sample of his DNA for inclusion in the State Registry, pay a $50 collection fee. He is further required to pay a total of $320 Crime Victim Assistance Fees and Surcharges. The Court is further entering an Order of Protection which prohibits Anthony Pacherille from having any contact either in person or by mail or any other means with Wesley Lippitt. The defendant is to receive appropriate psychiatric and mental health treatment during the course of his incarceration. He is to receive credit for the time he has already served in jail against his prison sentence. . . . "

Character Adjustments; Finch, Cromwell, More, Satan.

                                 
                                           Thomas More                  Thomas Cromwell

                                   

                                   
                                                         Satan's cat - Behemoth

 Atticus Finch was always to good to be true. But is was soothing to think that in the 1930's South or anywhere for that matter, amid racism, lynchings and the corrupt human condition there might be a brave, essentially defenseless individual devoted to law and due process. Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird created such a character and Gregory Peck brought him to life in the subsequent movie. It was impossible not to develop an emotional attachment to this good man's struggle for justice in an ugly social environment. Now Lee's second book Go Set the Watchman is reportedly the "first" and provides us with a debased but more believable protagonist - it is a character adjusted. Atticus Finch belongs to Harper Lee - so we have lost a great fictional hero. But I shall not read the new "first" second book.
     Character adjustments are of course as common as writers. Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall burnishes the character of Thomas Cromwell and blisters that of Thomas More, both personas real. If the Roman Church had anything to do with your education (it provided my early education) then Cromwell was taught as a "doctrinaire hack" to Henry VIII. Cromwell supported the Reformation, the annulment of Henry's marriage to Katherine of Aragon, the split with the Papacy, beheading Thomas More, all paving the way for a besotted Henry's marriage to Ann Boleyn. Later Cromwell at Henry's behest creates the charges leading to Ann's execution. So it was but Mantel also displays Cromwell as an abused youngster who flees to Europe, becomes a soldier, merchant, practices law, speaks French, Italian and passable Latin and returns to England. Cromwell rises to become the fiercely loyal adviser to Cardinal Wolsey and later Henry VIII. In service to Henry's Royal Treasury and the Reformation, Cromwell will close down approximately 800 religious houses/abbeys in just four years. Yes, he was ambitious struggling up through a nearly impenetrable class system. Cromwell was a problem fixer - using intimidation, extortion and torture in pursuit of objectives and in pay back for past wrongs. But Cromwell in Mantel's hands is also restrained and in context even humane. He was an excellent family man. After falling out of favor with Henry over the choice of his fourth wife Ann of Cleves, Cromwell was beheaded in 1540.
     The other character adjusted by Mantel is Thomas More, lawyer, scholar, statesman, social philosopher, Lord Chancellor of England and awarded sainthood by the Roman Catholic Church. As with Atticus Finch a movie created a mesmerizing image of Thomas More. Paul Schofield in A Man for All Seasons (1966)  portrays an elegant Thomas More - a leader of the Roman Church, who understands God's law and that obedience to it is required for salvation. But he is not into heroics. "I am not the stuff of martyrs" he suggests and offers Henry his "silence" on the proposed annulment of the marriage to Katherine. Henry requires  his affirmation. More, underestimating his penchant for martyrdom will not affirm and is beheaded in 1535.
     Hilary Mantel displays Thomas More as a religious zealot. More enjoyed torturing a tad too much. Prison rooms and instruments of torture were kept at his home Chelsea for use in interrogating and saving sinners and heretics. If they could not be saved then he was willing to burn them - including one London seller of banned books. More also had a taste for masochism - his penance might include a "hair shirt" or self flagellation. Allowing for context More's character still seems considerably removed from the gentle Jesus. If  ever moved to do some praying St. Thomas More will not be my first choice as an intermediary with God.  
     Satan, aka Lucifer, Beelzebub, Devil and the "serpent" is fictional to many but as real as darkness to others. He is an arrogant, charismatic angel who organized and led legions of angels in a massive coup attempt against God Almighty. Driven out of heaven Satan and his forces were consigned by God to Hell - from which Satan later escaped. With cunning and deception he then engineers the Fall of Man, expulsion from the Garden of Eden and the introduction of death to the human species. But of course I oversimplify - please see John Milton's Paradise Lost for the complete tale with all the intricate details. But here is a question - is it possible to burnish the character of such a universally acknowledged villain?
     In Mikhail Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita the "serpent" is named Woland. His left eye is green, insane and on occasion blazes brightly. The right eye is empty, black and dead.  Woland's wardrobe ranges from impeccably tailored black tailcoats, a black half mask and a magnificent black cloak - but he often lounges around at home in a greasy, dirty nightshirt. His visit to Moscow exposes and humiliates fools, incompetents, hypocrites and apparatchiks. Woland's retinue includes Koroviev, a smooth talking advance man - a tall, skinny presence in a checkered suit and perpetually cracked eye wear. The devil's cat - Behemoth, is a large, black tom with the surprising ability to walk on its hind legs. The cat enjoys vodka, cognac and frankfurter snacks. His feline independence exasperates even the Devil. But when asked to tear a head off Behemoth will comply in a most business like fashion. He has also been known to pack - it is unclear where - a Browning semi-automatic pistol. The last member is Azazello,  a short, stocky individual wearing a bowler hat. At Woland's request he will perform the occasional intimidation, abduction or wet job. Azazello is immediately recognizable by the fang protruding from his jaw. Woland and crew dispense a rough justice on the stupid and corrupt yet liberate others from persecution and punishment. Bulgakov does not refurbish Satan's character but he does hold up a mirror to humanity and then renders the devil some due.

Mikhail Bulgakov The Master and Margarita (Pevear and Volokhonsky trans.) 1997.
Harper Lee To Kill a Mockingbird 1960.
Hilary Mantel Wolf Hall 2009.
                           Bring Up the Bodies 2012.
John Milton  Paradise Lost 1667.

Distant Places, Students and Fragments.

                                                                               

                                                                                                                                             

                                                     


     Samarkand, Uzbekistan, 1980s. Near the intersection of the streets Registon ko'chasi and Toshkentskaya is an expansive public square - The Registran. It has been a focal point of the city for 500 years. The square is flanked by the Ensemble, three magnificent Madrasahs. The oldest school Ulugh Beg dates from 1417 CE, the other two, Sher-Dor and Tilya-Kori from 1619 and 1646 CE.*
     An Intourist bus disgorged 25 Hartwick College students many displaying the lethargy of those engaged in sightseeing. Slowly they spread out among other pedestrians over a wide expanse but moving toward the Tilya-Kori Madrasah. Also prowling the sunlit square were members of the Soviet Army, dark paladins in shining boots, brown greatcoats and fur hats. Eventually one soldier cautiously approached a Hartwick student and struggling, indicated he would like to take her picture. Kim, a bright faced young lady and not particularly shy, grabbed his arm and led him to a low concrete structure where they both sat down. Kim then took away his fur hat, put it on and proceeded to muss up his hair. Another soldier rushed over and started snapping their picture. Janet, also determined to improve Soviet American relations, seized another soldier by the arm and marched him to the site - he lost his hat while being vamped. I was now taking pictures - everyone was - except the soldier clicking a camera. He stopped, rushed over grabbing a comrade by the sleeve yanking him upright and then sitting down between Kim and Janet. It was his turn! Lots of laughter - young people meeting - an instant Cold War thaw. I turned slowly and drifted off to examine the beauty of Islamic architecture.
     Kyoto, Japan, 1980s. I was determined to get the entire group into a public bath and massaged at least once. How could anyone visit Japan and not get a massage and haircut? (During this month long trip I would visit three barbershops.) The group consisted of 13 men and 12 women - the latter included the College President's wife Barbara, two professors and one administrator. Unless we were in an upscale hotel finding an acceptable masseuse service for the women would be I thought problematic. Barbara told me not to worry about it. One professor, Jean said she would help and look for such a service.
     My first afternoon in the streets of Kyoto resulted in the identification of an attractive public bath three blocks from our residence, a youth hostel. The following day after selecting four muscular men to accompany me - I am a cautious fellow - we proceeded with a trial run of this establishment. It was an outstanding choice -  reasonably priced and clean enough to host surgery. The shower heads were plentiful, each with a bucket, brush and stool while the soaking pool was hot enough to make lobster blush. In a pre-bath meeting with the group I warned that when Americans emerge from a shower convinced they are "clean" Japanese are preparing to repeatedly scrub and douse themselves with buckets of steaming water. THEN they soak in a pool! I implored them, "When you see skin peeling off your body scrub just once more! Don't embarrass America! And for God's sake don't create ripples in the pool!" The baths went well.
     It is probably impossible for a person waiting for a massage not to engage in some erotic reverie. There are massages with different national identities; Japanese, Swedish, Turkish and generally many different kinds of massage. The three Japanese women that went to work pounding on hundreds of pounds of towel clad American males were happy,skilled and chattered like parakeets. Almost immediately the groans began as the masseuses pushed, pulled, pounded, elbowed, kneed and walked on their clients. The women responded with laughter and then pushed, pulled and twisted harder. At the end of fifty minutes you may feel like a rag doll or a puddle, but you are totally relaxed.
     The following day I led a large group of the men to their bath and massage or as one described it "their mugging". This group included my one black student. I entered the establishment  in front of him and en garde. But the proprietress welcomed me with multiple bows, smiles and warmth. After the formalities my charges were deposited with her and a most capable staff.  Exiting the Bath I was partially satisfied with myself - I turned left and walked a narrow, crowded street. We were unable to find a similar opportunity for the women - a regret.
     Moscow, Russia, 1980s.  A bright wintry day - we walked the snow packed paths winding through Gorky Park.
John a pre-law student, was reading aloud from Martin Cruz-Smith's novel. In the USSR Gorky Park was an illegal book - "forbidden literature". Three other students and I absorbed every spoken word and searched - we passed the Ferris Wheel gently rotating on our right almost in time with scratchy music from the PA system. We sought the exact location where Inspector Akrady Renko first examined three murder victims exhumed from the snow - the face of each obliterated by a single gun shot. Ultimately is was impossible to be sure of the precise spot - but we thought that just maybe . . . !  Two hours later our Intourist guide asked me where I had been.
     "We went to examine the scene of the murders in Gorky Park."
     She seemed to get upset. "WHAT? There was no murder! How can you say that?"
     "They occur in the novel Gorky Park."
     "I know" she replied "but that is a slanderous story - how can you take students on such an outing?"
     "I didn't -  they took me."
     Seemingly exasperated she dramatically whirled around and marched away.

* See Wikipedia; photos Wikimedia

Thermonuclear Reactions

      
                           

                                                       USS Cape St. George
                                                                      CG 71

                                               Ensign Kevin Burns and grandfather
                                                     photo by Brian Burns

     In ceremonies this May, Kevin Burns graduated from Cornell University and was commissioned an Ensign in the U.S. Navy. In July he will begin study at the Navy's Nuclear Propulsion School in Charleston, S.C. with training for the submarine service. A final research paper at Cornell was entitled; Tactical Nuclear Weapons; Their Invention, Integration and Effect on Warfighting Doctrine from the 1940s to the 1970s. Kevin sent the paper to me, his grandfather aware of my interest in the subject and of course all his work.
     The paper carries the reader over a distressing several decades during which the planet was hostage to expanding nuclear forces and the possible threat of extinction. In 1945, SAC's General Curtis LeMay, the "father" of strategic firebombing said that the only nuclear bomb he wanted was one that could destroy all of Russia. J.Robert Oppenheimer was the "father" and "mother" of the American atomic bomb. "Opie" maintained that strategic nukes were unusable and ultimately self-defeating. They would have to be honed down to a less devastating size to have battle field value. Oppenheimer was declared a threat to national security, fired from his job and the U.S. proceeded to build the "super" weapon, a hydrogen bomb.* But the U.S. also developed "tactical" weapons and Secretary of State John Foster Dulles fully expected that these nukes would gradually replace conventional weapons and be used. In the 1950s, as the French military sank deeper into Vietnamese rain forests, Dulles offered the French for their use two nuclear weapons, ". . . neither one nor three, two!" ** The offer was not accepted.
     At about the same time the U.S. Navy distributed to personnel an elongated card, The Atomic, Biological and Chemical Warfare Handi-Pocket Reference. It was designed to be folded in two places and carried in the wallet. Thus it was readily available to help the sailor identify and deal with with suspicious incoming ordinance -  such as (paraphrase):
     Nerve Agents - Appearance, no distinctive appearance, no distinctive odor; Effects - no immediate effects - later headaches, shortness of breath, convulsions, paralysis of the respiratory organs; First Aid - Don mask - seek medical assistance.
     The ABC Handi-Pocket Reference was more helpful concerning a nuclear attack.
     Nuclear Weapon - Appearance, earthquake-like; Effects - bright light, concussion, heat, with causalities and damage dependent on distance from ground zero. First aid - seek medical assistance..
     My ABC Reference was never consulted in terror.But it remained in my wallet for decades until the USSR imploded - it now rests in a
Cuban cigar box among my most cherished collectibles.
      In March 1962, I sat at a steel gray desk staring at a card inscribed with one word "THINK". I did and then resigned from IBM. In September I started teaching at T.R. Proctor High School and over the next two years instructed students of grades 7,8,9,10, and 11. As my first class of 7th graders filed into the room I was struck by one characteristic - they were really short.. They also proved to be funny, there was much laughter. They were eager to learn anything. I would tell them ghost stories - then test - "Revolutionary War ghosts prefer to vacation at (A) Fort Ticonderoga, (B) Fort William Henry, (C) Fort Crown Point, (D) all of the above." But I digress.
     Monday morning, October 15th - the first day of the Cuban
Missile Crisis. Seventh graders entered the classroom and piled up around my desk asking questions. "Is there going to be a War?" "Are the Cubans going to invade us?" "Are the Russians going to bomb us?" "Are we going to be killed?" Absolutely surprised I spent the next twenty minutes saying soothing things to frightened children - "Stop it! There will be No War !" Having just said that for perhaps a fifth time the twenty foot window shade decided to race to the top
and slam repeatedly around the rod. The students screamed. I yelped. It was our introduction to war nerves.
     The 1970s witnessed the development of neutron bomb technology. There were high hopes for neutron weapons - such weapons might be ideal for urban combat - rooting out and killing guerrillas without devastating bridges and department stores.
Maybe yes, probably no. But as of 2015, with a single exception, nuclear armed nations  have been unwilling to use nuclear weapons in armed conflict. The exception was the U.S. that did use atomic bombs against Japan, a non nuclear state. To date nuclear armed nations have feared the "known" consequences that would inevitably follow an escalation into nuclear war, e.g. the scramble by most states to obtain their own nuclear arsenal. The "unknown" are horrific to imagine, e.g. how does a military planner identify his/her front line? But this nonuse could certainly change - and the rise of violent non state actors complicates things still further.
    The dance of the human species with "litt'le shyn'ng man the atom" as Riddley Walker would say continues.*** Atomic energy has brought benefits to millions and simultaneously extraordinary danger to the planet. There have been four catastrophes and one near miss - Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Chernobyl, Fukushima Daiichi and Three Mile Island. One wonders what's next.


Burns, Kevin. Tactical Nuclear Weapons unpublished manuscript. May 2015.
See Also: * Bird, Kai American Prometheus; J.Robert Oppenheimer 2007.
Cohen, S.T. The Truth About the Neutron Bomb 1983.
**Hearts and Minds  film   1974.
 ***Hoban, Russell. Riddley Walker 1980
Nichols, Thomas et al.Tactical Nuclear Weapons and NATO 2012.

Voyage From Sweden - John Oskar's Report (3 of 3)

   
ELLIS ISLAND: John Oskar Lindell; Arrival July 1, 1923; Scandinavian; 
                           Last residence, Botkyrka, Sweden; Age 19y; Male; Single; 
                           S/S Stockholm; Description, 5'11", Brown hair, Blue eyes,
                           Laborer; Address in US, Uncle Sigfrid Karlson, 36 Myrtle 
                           Ave, Jersey City, N.J.

 A few years later . . .  John Oskar and Mary Malone Lindell

      June 26, Tuesday, 3-4 PM

     The last 24 hours we have had the highest speed so far; 349 nautical-miles compared to the usual 325-345, thanks to the weather. Yesterday we had a complete "Grona Lund" amusement park on board. In II class as well as in III class there was dancing and on our deck a violin player, a real folk music player, and below the deck violin and piano and in the cabins concertina and mouth organ and some so-called singers. Today between 3 and 4 o'clock I will send the telegram that I mentioned to you. A guy who was sick during the whole journey did not get up until yesterday and among the women folks there are some still in bed. I on my part am completely well. I want Ester's and the Tureberg people's addresses, please don't forget that!

     The other day I got stuck with my raincoat in a deck chair. The slit got ripped up. The cleaning lady will mend it. Harry Vinther sends his regards to the Vallgrens. He is an able-bodied seaman on board. Tell Tore and Sigrid to learn how to swim this year as it is very good to know. They say that it is very warm weather in America. When I get there I shall have to take off long johns and a couple of shirts. The Soderfors boy whom Uncle Otto introduced me to at the Central Station is a skillful violin player. He often plays on board. He is an iron-turner by profession. He does not travel alone, he is accompanied by his sister. There are people from all over Sweden here and some Germans, Jews, Finns and Russians too. Stockholm is badly represented. Those from Stockholm have not got any travel money. I wouldn't have any either, if not . . . (?)
     I want Uncle Alfred's and Uncle Otto's addresses. I will write cards sometime. Ask the garden hand at Stavshall if he could take some snaps/photos of you.He is a good photographer. Then you will send me pictures too. I might have forgotten to pack my shaving brush. I will search through my luggage once more. I have a very bad pencil.
     June 28, Thursday, 2 PM
     Today the boy from Gotland and I had a drink of my cordial, it tasted very good. I found the soap brush at the same moment. I no longer feel sick by the air indoors, as I did the first time on board when I only wanted to throw up as soon as I got under deck. The number of letter writers is increasing. One notices this as we are approaching the destination. I misled you about the boy from Gotland. He has met his father. His mother did not want to go. The last 24 hours we have covered 330 nautical-miles. It gets warmer everyday. One takes off heaps of underwear. The air in the cabins starts getting stuffy.
     John Vedin is an emigrant who got robbed of 300-400 crowns before he left Stockholm. His coat was cut up and his wallet stolen. It happened in a crowd at Kungstradgarden. The boys from Gastrikland traveled by the same train to Goteborg. They saw Vedin walk crying on the platform all night. He is married and has five children. A subscription list has been circulated on board and I contributed 1 crown.  
     My old pencil is worn out which is OK as the lead was very bad. I still use the pen holder. I would appreciate if Gosta (brother) would send my regards and thank the boys from home who traveled to the Central Station to say goodbye to me. I really appreciate to see them and I had not expected it. I will remember them with a few lines now and then. I will have a huge job writing to everyone I promised. I want to know Gothberg's PO Box number in Tullinge. He also wants to hear from me. Yesterday the office was closed. I will send the telegram today. Yesterday we got our passes, where your name, age, native country and an ordinal number in gigantic figures is written. I have number 22. I hope it will bring me luck.
     June 29, Friday, 8:30 AM.
     Today at noon it will be exactly 10 days since we put off from Gothenburg. Early tomorrow morning we shall reach New York. Yesterday afternoon I went up to the telegraph station and wrote the following telegram: "Lindell Separator Tumba Sweden. (father, employer, location)
Go ashore Monday. All is well. Regards, John" According to a message on the notice board it would cost 6 crowns but the telegraph operator informed me that it would cost 16.20. I was very surprised but learned that 6 crowns was applicable while we were still in direct connection with Sweden. Now we were close to the American coast. On Midsummer's Eve I could have sent the telegram but I wanted to wait some days. That's why you did not receive any telegram.
     We have had +23 C  (73 F) until 6-7 PM. Yesterday evening at 7:40 we watched for the first time the blood red sun set in the sea. On the surface were just a few small ripples, no wind at all. I can tell you that it was very beautiful indeed.

Translation; by Christina Spolen, John Oskar's niece.
See online - Ellis Island Foundation

Voyage from Sweden 1923 (2 of 3)

                   

                                 
                                           Felix Resurreccion Hidalgo  "Seascape"

     The S/S Potsdam was constructed for the Holland America Line by Blohm and Voss in Hamburg, Germany - launched in 1900. The ship was 168 meters long (550 feet) and weighted 12.6 tons DWT. It had twin propellers and capable of up to 15 knots, a disappointment for the designers. The ship could transport 2300 passengers. In 1915, the Swedish American Line purchased the ship and it was renamed the S/S Stockholm. One of its most notable cruises occurred in 1917 as the Stockholm brought home from "The Great War" one thousand African American and Puerto Rican soldiers of the 369th New York Regiment, the "Harlem Hellfighters" - so designated "Hellfighters" by the Germans. The 369th ". .  never lost a man to capture, lost a trench or a foot of ground to the enemy."*
     In 1923, at age 19, John Oskar Lindell, my father migrated to America. The following is from his travel  report to his father and mother.
     S/S Stockholm; June 23, 1923 - Midsummer's Eve, 1 o'clock.
     Today we have thought about going ashore to pick some birch leaves. I just wonder where dad has picked leaves to dress the maypole this year. You cannot ask for a more pleasant weather than we have today. It is evident that we are heading south, it gets warmer everyday! We have received a radio message telling that a heat wave is passing America. I am seriously thinking of sending a radio telegram to you in a few days. I can imagine how happy you would be, 10 words costs 6 crowns. The ship does hardly dive at all today; we have the best imaginable weather. We had rough seas for a couple of days, when the ship rolled for sure. If she starts to roll now it would not affect me at all.
     A ship like this is not as comfortably fitted as you would think. There is no room for writing; one has to write in the 3rd class bar on the serving table, which is often very dirty with beer, orange cordial and cigarette ashes. The best way is to lie bent forward and write against the leather sofas, provided that you have a book underneath of course, if not it is more difficult. When the passengers get sick they crawl up on deck where they lie in big heaps on tarpaulins like lifeless, most of them on their stomach, which is said to be the best. Those suffering from severe seasickness remain in their cabins. You should not think that everybody is sick, far from that, those who have avoided being sick are real noisy indeed, they sing, dance, play cards and tell stories. All games with money involved are strictly forbidden. You are not allowed to stay in your cabin during the day and I don't want to either. There is a terrible smell that I don't like and some surfaces are freshly painted too. On Midsummer's Day we had rough sea and on Monday as well. Thus I did not feel inclined to write on any of those days.
     Tuesday between 3 and 4 PM.
     On Midsummer's Eve there was dancing on the deck and cinema in the dining hall. We have movies a couple of times per week. Every afternoon between 4 and 5 a string-band of 6 men plays fine music I can tell you. I sleep in a 6-bed cabin on the starboard side in the stern of the ship. As cabin pals I have an 18 year old boy from Gotland. He travels to his father in the USA, whom he has never met; further two boys about 25 years old from Norrsunda in Gastrikland; an American sailor and finally a boy who has been employed by the Hamburger Brewery in Stockholm, working in the office. He travels to his brother who owns a cutlery factory in Rockford, ILL. Decent boys all of them. A 6-bed cabin is very narrow, but now I am used to it so it's OK. In the morning we have to dress two at a time. Two of the six hangers are on the inside of the door. At the ship's owners office I saw pictures of 4-bed cabins but not of any 6-bed cabin, because they don't want to show how narrow they are. Today I am sitting in the gentleman's saloon, which is rather good. The band plays while I am sitting here and they play beautifully, believe me. The American sat down right opposite me just now, shirt sleeves rolled up, his arms covered with tattoos.
     Please excuse my handwriting! Some people say that we won't be allowed to go ashore until Monday while US citizens would be let ashore already on Sunday. In any case we will arrive on Friday. We start getting restless on board. We want ashore as soon as possible, we have had enough of sea journey. We were many who thought this would be a pleasure trip, but you could hardly call it that. The days are getting nice now, we had +20 C in the shade (68 F) and there is a strong wind. The musicians are just now playing a charming piece of music. When I get up on deck I will ask "Hamburger" about its name, he will know that as he like me loves music. "Hamburger's real name is Knut Palmgren, he has a small . . .(?)
     The mist does not become less dense until now. Otherwise the weather is very fine. The sun is warming and no wind. We have nearly +25 C in the shade (77 F). Not until today did I touch the food I brought. Our group had a party on the stern, we ate butter and bread, anchovies, sausage, smoked ham, cheese and crisp rolls. I have not tasted the cordial. They have been kind enough to withdraw the dessert from the dinner menu except on Sundays of course when we get a dessert and one beer each.

  * Wikipedia - see S/S Potsdam, S/S Stockholm; see also The 369th New York Regiment.;
     Ellis Island Foundation.

Voyage From Sweden 1923 (part 1 of 3).

                                               

SS Potsdam 1900

SS Stockholm 1915

         John Oskar Lindell was born in Tullinge, Sweden on October 6, 1903. He was the first of three  sons and four daughters born to Albertina and Oskar Frederick Lindell. In 1923 at age 19, he  migrated to the United States. The first of several "travel notes" written during this trip follows. They had been carefully copied by his father and saved in his personal "little black notebook". The translation is by  John Oskar's niece Christina Spolen.

    

    The SS Potsdam was launched in 1900, sold in 1915 by Holland America Lines to the new Swedish American Line and renamed the SS Stockholm. In 1923 the"last wave" of the industrial migration from Europe occurred. Six years later the ship was sold to a Norwegian Whaling Company and in 1929 became the SS Solglimt. In 1940 she was captured by German Naval Forces and renamed SS Sonderburg. A British air strike on Cherbourg in 1941 partially sank the Sonderburg and in 1944 she was scuttled by the Germans to block the harbour. 1946 - 1947 The hulk was towed to the United Kingdom and scrapped.*

        

SS Stockholm - June 19th, 1923

         I would never have imagined that I would receive such a hearty farewell. Just imagine what a great number of friends at [Stockholm] Central Station, at Tullinge Station and at Tumba Station, where I had expected a half dozen. The boys were standing there in a long line and at Tullinge the railroad station and on the road to the goods shed it was crowded with people, who completely showered me with flowers. Now the boat shakes and therefore my handwriting gets a little crumped but I write as good as I can.

     To Goteborg I traveled together with a Swedish farmer from America, a boy a little older than me, who works on board Stockholm as a kitchen hand and a well known athlete, Hellas Persson. He is a gymnast, general athlete, good hammer-thrower and wrestler. Tell Gosta [brother] that Hellas P. had a letter of introduction from Ernst Lindblom (Sving) to Hj Lundin in America. I saw the letter. As you know mom and dad I traveled by a special train. Therefore Erland was not at the station but he went there for a later train.

     On our arrival in Goteborg the farmer, the athlete and I had coffee together. Then I went up to the Vahlstroms and met Erland on the stairs. Mrs Vahlstrom is such a kind woman. She immediately invited me to dine with them. I wanted to pay her but I was not allowed to. I was also offered to stay the night there but I had already fixed that. Tickets bought [for] America were not valid for that free stay in Goteborg (in Stockholm they could not tell). The Institute of Commerce however, has been opened for visitors to the exhibition and to emigrants. There I could sleep for 1.50 crowns per night, not on the floor as mom and dad might think but in a real iron bed.

     On Monday I had no time during the day to see the exhibition. I had to run to the office quite a few times for passport and ticket and also twice to the doctor. But in the evening Erland and I went there. Mom and dad, you could never imagine how beautiful the exhibition grounds are in the evening illumination. It's altogether like a fairy tale. I can't stop thinking of the minarets and the memory hall as it was all so extremely beautiful. Erland and I went on the switchback railway and we danced, enjoyed ourselves until midnight. I mustn't forget the three English tight rope walkers. They walked blindfolded, they biked and danced on a tight steel wire at a considerable altitude. As Erland and I walked from the exhibition we had to look back several times to admire the minarets and the memory hall because all was so very beautiful. From there I had only a 3 minute walk to the Institute of Commerce. In my hall there were 26 beds but only 10 were occupied. When I arrived after midnight everyone was snoring. Close to me was an old man with a big moustache. I wondered if he might be the farmer and in the morning I realized that it was him. On Tuesday the whole town was decorated with flags. I mentioned to the farmer that they expected the king to arrive. Then he leaned very close to me and said; "I'll tell you that I don't give a damn about the king". He did not dare speak out loud so that the by-standers would hear - a nice chap he is.

     Midsummer's Eve, Saturday, June 20th ** 

     At noon the steamer put off while the music played the Swedish national anthem; "Du gamla du fria" ["Thou ancient, thou free"]. Leonard E., Erland V and a cousin of Erland's were present at the ship.

     Soon after departure the bell rang announcing dinner, consisting of spinach soup, veal steak with potatoes and rice pudding with fruit sauce. The food on board is good. I belong to the first sitting. At 7 AM oatmeal porridge, fish or meat and coffee. At noon lunch often with three courses, at 3 PM coffee with sweet bread, at 6 PM supper. Butter, cheese, anchovies, a fish or meat dish and tea. First day moderate sea, second day rough sea. Now the seasickness has started to assert itself. I began throwing up and thus only ate every second meal, third and fourth day the same, fifth day completely well again, just a little weak legs. However, I have been up every day. This is the reason I have not started to write earlier. Now it tastes good to eat again.

* See: Henrik Ljungstrom - research online; Also Wikipedia - SS Potsdam.

          Photos from Wikimedia; Also Fred Pansing - SS Potsdam

** June 23rd, 1923 ???

Soviet Students at Hartwick

     

                                                       Goritsky Monastery

                                   

                                                        Hartwick College

     The New York Times in 1990 reported that Yale and Columbia were the first universities in the United States to enroll full time Soviet undergraduates. (The USSR began allowing its nationals to study in the US for a year at a time in 1987.) Depending upon actual dates this may or may not be correct. Hartwick College and the State University of New York at Oneonta in the same year had each enrolled a full time Soviet undergraduate. This was the beginning of a short term competition to get Soviet students onto American college campuses.
     I had been invited to do some teaching and consulting in Soviet Russia in 1989. It occurred to me that with a proper scholarship offer I should be able to bring a Russian student back to Hartwick. The President of the College, Philip S. Wilder liked the idea and charged me with drafting the scholarship offer. Later that week jogging in the hills around Oneonta, the President of SUNY Oneonta Allen Donovan caught up with me on a descending road. I shared with him my plans and he responded "Bring one back for us". He then forged ahead on the ascending slope.
     Armed now with two scholarships either of which might have pleased a Big Ten quarterback I arrived in Pereslval-Zalessky. It was not clear to me how the five candidates I met were selected but I subjected each to my English language competency test - they all passed. In this group Alexey stood out - 17 years old, intelligent, energetic, adequate English skills and clearly he wanted the opportunity. He became my first choice. I mulled over the remaining candidates.and another interview was arranged - with Jon, 25 years old, adequate English, mature and already a graduate of a Soviet fixed wing training program. Jon came in second. Alexey at Hartwick majored in Computer Science. (To improve his English language skills we immediately enrolled him in calculus and physics courses - strengths of the Soviet educational system. He could probably have taught the courses.)  Jon went to SUNY Oneonta and both graduated four years later. Alexey is now a software expert living in Massachusetts and married to a beautiful Boston Irish girl - they have two handsome, blue eyed, brush cut.sons. Jon had some difficulty detaching from college life and about him I know little more.
     The following year I returned to Pereslval and interviewed several candidates. I offered a scholarship to Marina, a student at School #7. Marina's English was quite good and her intellectual brilliance was attested to by practically every teacher and administrator I encountered. They were not exaggerating. Marina came to Hartwick, majored in computer science, graduated with excellent grades (including one from me) and secured her MBA from MIT. Initially she worked in Boston for an organization concerned with cyber security issues. She has risen through the ranks and is now a Vice President at the investment bank Brown Brothers Harriman.
     The following year Elena arrived, another Computer Science major and the year after Andre who chose Economics. Their connection with the College was now the work of the Hartwick International Programs Office and my role faded away. They both graduated and disappeared from my radar. I did try to establish an exchange program with the small University of Pereslval-Zalessky - two students came for a term but the program sputtered out - problems associated with costs and language proficiency on both sides were insurmountable. But for a few more years students from the former USSR arrived via other international programs to grace and enrich the Hartwick environment. A few I remember well.
     Aidana a young lady from Uzbekistan mixed oriental beauty with Soviet naivete. When I began a seminar with "Remember - what other people tell you is interesting - what I tell you is truth!" Aidana was the only one who did not laugh. I worried about that but quickly discovered she had encyclopedic knowledge. From time to time as I would prattle on with a professorial soliloquy, I might lack (read "forget") a name, date or event. At such a moment I would point and say " Ms. (Aidana) what is the date my memory refuses to provide?" She would immediately provide the essential information - never with a smile. As the term progressed my questions to her became more complex. "Ms. (Adiana), what did I really mean by that last piece of convoluted analysis?" Gohar was from Armenia and also possessed a wonderful mind packed with information. As with Adiana she filled in the blanks in my information when asked - frequently with a smile. They were both a tremendous pleasure to have in class.
     Turana's home was Baku, Azerbaijan and she came to my office for advice. She was seeking an internship and had picked one out. What did I think of it? Her choice was a fine idea - a worthy organization. We chatted for a few minutes and I asked her to try something else. She went back to the Internship Office and completed an application for the New York City Police Department.
     A week later I received a telephone call from 1 Police Plaza. "Do you know Ms. (Turana) ?"
     I replied "She's from Azerbaijan, speaks four languages plus flawless English."
     She thoroughly enjoyed the internship and I trust learned much. Perhaps someday I shall discover what impact interning with NYPD had on her life in Azerbaijan - if any.
     Rodica came to Hartwick from Moldova. Intelligent, confident and dynamic describes her properly. In class she enjoyed challenging the professor's (my!) ideas. Rodica was also a vigorous proponent of Human Rights. This young Moldovan woman secured an international internship to travel to Armenia and assist in establishing a women's rights organization. She completed the internship (safely) returned to the United States, graduated from college and married. I can not but believe that social ripples from Rodica's visit must continue to waft across that small nation.

Hugh in the Ancient Inca Capital

                                           

                                   
                                                           Cusco, Peru
      It was Hugh's good fortune in 2011 to visit the historic capital of the Inca Empire - Cusco, Peru.
His mother Dr. Catherine Lindell, a restoration biologist and ornithologist at Michigan State University was scheduled to present research at the IX Congress for Neotropical Ornithology held November 8th to the 14th. It was his grandfather John's good fortune to be invited along to hang out with Hugh while his mother was professionally preoccupied. Then 9 years old Hugh was intelligent, articulate - an outstanding soccer and basketball playing violinist. I write this as a dispassionate but informed observer. The question - what can two individuals, sharing they believe keen intellects but separated in age by three-quarters of a century do together to occupy the day in a UNESCO "World Heritage Site ?*
    Peru's constitution recognizes Cusco as the "historic capital" of that nation. It has a resident population of 450,000 and 2,000,000 visitors annually. Positioned in the Andes Mountains at 11,200 feet altitude sickness is a deleterious possibility for any tourist. While Hugh and his mother adjusted rapidly to the thinner atmosphere John did not. Medical literature lists eleven symptoms of common altitude sickness. John experienced nine of them including profound weakness, skull busting headaches and explosive diarrhea. (Hugh thought the last symptom was pretty hilarious.) Cusco residents offer visitors hot coco leaf tea to ward off the effects of oxygen deprivation. While enjoying the tea immensely John derived little benefit and drained of energy sought less demanding activities.
   
                                                 

                                                                           
                                                    Hugh, Goat y dos Muchachas

    He would lead Hugh on walks to nearby parks. The Hotel Machu Picchu is located across the street from a city focal point - the Plaza de Armas. So the two would slowly proceed to the Plaza and then sit on a park bench. After John had rested they would set off over granite brick streets three additional blocks to another park - Plaza Regocijo (Place of Rejoicing!). John would find a bench and they would sit again. He tried to make it lively for Hugh by pointing out the number of seemingly stray dogs wandering about (three or four at one sitting!). Hugh would nod out of politeness while successfully masking incredulous boredom. John would somewhat recharge and they would push off across San Teresa Street, up San John de Dios Street to the Plaza San Francisco and another bench. Occasionally they would enter a building that was inevitably crowded with shops and stalls - all selling alpaca knit goods. Listlessly they wandered to and fro and would then exit. Hugh would later remark that he did not like " that tourists were so targeted to sell stuff to". It was true - so true but John and Hugh weren't buying anything. Once they stopped and purchased three ice cream cones - the extra for a dog lying on the sidewalk. The dog sniffed at their offering, refused it and went back to sleep.
    In the Hotel they would spend time lying on the beds watching televised soccer games from Mexico, Spain, Italy and Germany - betting nuevo sols (1 Peruvian nuevo sol = $.30 US) on each game. Then to speed up the action placed side bets on which team would score the next goal. This was fun. Hugh understands the value of money and was always an excellent winner. So then money was infused into other activities. Bordering the Plaza de Armas is the Basilica Catedral, a "working" church with an immense collection of religious art. One day to expose Hugh to fine art and religious ideas simultaneously John purchased tickets to La Catedral. Intuitively understanding that a 9 year old male might be bored by hundreds of paintings of angels, saints, martyrs and deities, he decided to make it financially worth his while. John promised to pay Hugh 3 nuevo sols for every art work he discovered containing someone with a smile. Over the next hour among the array of paintings and sculptures they found one definite smile and five "maybes". A heated discussion of the enigmatic "maybe smiles" ensued - perhaps it was simply a smirk by a cherub or baby contentedly passing gas. Finally Hugh was awarded 17 nuevo sols ($5.00 US).
    When Professor Lindell was available the three of course did things together. Each Sunday in Cusco there is a parade of surprising duration - two to three hours. Groups of happy, uniformed school children, patriotic and religious organizations as well as military units wind their way through the core of the city passing La Catedral. From our Hotel we crossed the Plaza de Armas and had a fine view. The marching military included a platoon of snipers in fringed camouflage along with army and police units. Of minor interest but nevertheless noted - the army units were equipped with M 16s while the police carried Kalashnikovs - a sign perhaps of intra-governmental competitiveness? The police were also led by a strikingly attractive female officer in beige riding britches and shining boots.
    At the end of the Congress they planned to take a day tour to the remains of Machu Picchu. Tickets were purchased. But neither John's mind or body would cooperate - the thought of awakening at 5:00 AM and climbing down stairs to begin three hours of travel was painful - the thought of climbing up anywhere at the site seemed masochistic. He gave his ticket to one of Professor Lindell's graduate students and they went to visit "a wonder of the world".  Later that day John went to the Plaza Regocijo, sat on a park bench and counted stray dogs, alone.
    Recently Hugh was asked what he liked about Cusco. "I liked the scenery and the liveliness of the town . . . what I didn't  like was the chaos in the streets". John was pleased he did not remember boredom.

* See Cusco, Peru - Wikipedia
Photos - Dr. Catherine Lindell