Saturday, December 23, 1961
(Written Dec. 24) Things continued to be very disorganized today,
with 3 guests still in the house (Allen & Bill, who are arranging
their move from Palo Alto to Berkeley, left this morning.) I am
surprised how upset I become to have my routine use of bathroom
, kitchen, telephone etc., interrupted.
I have been getting up late, about 10 or later, every morning
of this holiday, & having lunch instead of breakfast as my
first meal, & actually having only 2 main meals a day, &
this system seems to work quite well.
After studying a few hours this afternoon, I decided to take B
on her monthly dinner-treat, & offered to take her to the
buffet dinner at the Claremont Hotel, where she (but not I) had
been once before & much enjoyed, where you can have all you
can eat of a great variety of food for $3.50. We decided to take
Larry with us, & then all go to a party Gale Galant was giving
in San Francisco.
While B got ready, Larry & I played table-tennis at the Lutheran
students' center. We had made a "table reservation"
for 7:30, but B wasn't ready to go until 7:45, by which time I
was very hungry & annoyed. I wore my new suit for the second
time, & fortunately it gave me little discomfort.
The meal at the Claremont was, I thought, very disappointing.
Although there was an unlimited amount of good food, the atmosphere
& conditions spoiled it. The dining room was very large &
noisy. In order to get your food, you had each time to walk quite
a distance dodging tables & chairs. I hated the smell of cigarettes
& cigars, & the whole idea of eating among a lot of noisy
strangers was distasteful. Fortunately I had many surplus calories
to use up (left over from 2 days ago, when I fasted much of the
day) & was able to have plenty of dessert, strawberry tart
& 2 chocolate éclairs. There was "entertainment"
in the form of "dancing waters," - jets of water &
colors moving in various ways in time to music, but somehow this
too seemed very inappropriate. At least I came away full, &
I think B & Larry enjoyed it.
Gale's party was as big a disappointment, though I never expect
much from parties anyway. The vast majority of her guests were
young men. The only thing that interested me was Gale herself,
who in the past few months has lost an amazing amount of weight
since I last saw her, & now looks a completely different person.
Soon tiring of the party, I went outside for a walk, & shortly
came to the Fairmont Hotel, which I had never visited before.
I went inside, wandered around, & was impressed by the atmosphere
of wealth & luxury.
We came home long after 12, & on the way I went into a bad
mood, becoming very bitter against the influx of guests.
Sunday, December 24 1961
(Written Dec 25) Quite a miserable day for me, on the whole. As
usual the holiday season has come without my wanting it or being
in any way prepared for it; and the carols & decorations etc.
seem merely to add to my depression.
In fact I have good reason to be depressed, for the future at
this point seems very insecure. Financially I will be OK for the
next 6 months, until my 2-year term as a Teaching Assistant at
the University of California comes to an end. But I have now,
& probably will have then, hardly any financial reserve, &
so will have immediately to seek other work. My exam failure this
month has so shaken me that I now often feel it highly unlikely
that I will pass on the second attempt, & can't bear to think
of trying again a third time, at least not without some long intermission.
Worse still, I don't even have the desire to study, & feel
little interest in the subject. I am obsessed with a feeling of
the difficulty of the task & my inadequacy to accomplish it.
Compounding my problem is the fact that the teaching credential
which it took me over a year to earn, & which I have always
regarded as something to fall back on in time of economic need,
to work either as a substitute or as a regular teacher, is due
to expire in March, and, according to a special condition typed
right on it, may not be renewed until I have become a U.S. citizen.
When the credential was issued, this seemed quite reasonable,
since my 5 years residence qualification would be fulfilled by
Feb. 1961, & I didn't anticipate any undue delay in obtaining
my citizenship papers. The delay, however, has now lasted 10 months.
My written protest to the immigration people explaining my teaching
position has brought no satisfactory response; and, unless they
decide to "come through" before March, it seems I will
have to try making a special appeal to the State Department of
Education pleading special conditions, if I want to retain the
credential.
Further augmenting my depression was our guest problem & the
fact that my relations with B had become strained, mostly because
little grievances had been accumulating which we had no opportunity
to discuss & settle. Today, however, the current guest problem
came to an end. Kit & Bill found an apartment in which to
stay for the remainder of their holiday, & moved out of here
in the morning. And late in the afternoon, I drove Larry to the
Oakland airport, whence he was to fly to spend a few days with
his parents in New York. He anticipated only misery on the visit,
but hadn't seen them & felt it his duty after 4 years.
I was fascinated at the airport, watching the big planes land
& take off in the dark.
Because of me & my moodiness, B had a serious problem this
evening. She had intended to go down to San Jose, staying overnight,
& spending her time with her parents & with the Patnudes.
But I was so depressed & so uncertain how I was going to spend
my time & Christmas that she hated to leave me, especially
because we were supposed to have a family meeting this eve to
settle our differences, but hadn't had time to more than begin
it. She didn't really want to go to her parents, but felt a duty
especially to take her mother to midnight mass. She got all dressed
& ready to go (in my car, since hers needs repairs), but then
had trouble starting the car, & used this as an excuse for
deciding not to go. (We could easily have started the car by rolling,
if she'd really wanted to go.) Unable to get in touch with her
mother by phone (the apartment manager, whom she usually calls,
since her parents have no phone, was out) she sent a telegram
to tell her mother she wouldn't be coming until tomorrow.
Then we continued our meeting, which covered many of my recent
grievances, such as her borrowing my car & then returning
it without replacing the gas used, her coming home late at night
after going out from the library with her boy-friend Harold, without
calling to say she'd be late, and her not being ready on time
when we are going out together. As usual, after a long harrowing
discussion, we both felt much better, & were able to go to
bed happily & make love heartily.
Monday, December 25, 1961
(Written Dec. 26) Fortunately I was able to come out of my depression
today, and spent an enjoyable Christmas with good old friends.
B spent hers with her family, & perhaps if I had felt differently
during the past few days, I would have gone with her. But even
when we went to bed last night, I still was not sure how I would
spend today. Apart from going with B, it was a choice between
spending the day here alone, or going with Kit & Bill, who
were driving down to Palo Alto to spend it with Allen & Myra.
Once B had gone, I decided definitely on the latter. They came
late in the morning, & we took with us a turkey which someone
had "donated" to the Peace Movement, & which was
to be our Christmas dinner.
For some reason I found myself sociable & in quite high spirits
nearly all day, apart from a few brief spasms of melancholy, as
when B telephoned at 8 (when I was expecting her there) to say
she wouldn't be coming until 2 hours later.
The core of our group today & all who had dinner together,
were Allen & Myra & baby Glenn, Bill Pounds, who has now
become a virtual member of the Carrico family, Kit & Bill
Speth, & me. In the afternoon, after a sandwich snack, we
drove to see the campus of Foothill Junior College, where the
architecture is remarkably unusual & strongly suggestive of
an oriental style, and walked around there.
I played chess with Bill Pounds. Allen enjoyed playing with my
tape recorder. Our dinner was really delicious, & made a vivid
contrast in my mind with that at the Claremont 2 nights ago. In
the evening, other people came & went - Myra's mother &
latest husband or friend, the Art Westons, & Dave Weston.
B finally came about 9:45, & we sat talking about the peace
movement & finished up with me trying to defend my non-participation
& naturally not doing very well in the face of Allen's plausible
persuasiveness.
It really was good to be amongst old friends in this very demoralized
period of my life.
Tuesday, December 26, 1961
(Written Dec 27, on the toilet as usual) I found a new project
to keep me busy today. In reply to a letter of inquiry I sent
some time ago, there arrived today a letter from James H. Robinson,
Director of the Crossroads Africa program (see Dec 12) which holds
out to me the hope that I could possibly be accepted as a group
leader. A long application form for prospective leaders was enclosed,
& I spent much of my time today trying to fill this in. Some
of the questions require much thought, e.g. "List the 10
most outstanding books you have read in the last 3 years."
My major problem however is that of references. I know so few
people well, make probably such a bad impression on many, especially
those in authority over me, & am so lacking in confidence,
that whenever it comes to supplying references, my heart sinks.
For example, in the summer of 1960 I worked as a counselor at
the East Oakland YMCA day camp; ordinarily my employer or supervisor
in such a situation would be an excellent person to use as a reference.
But I am afraid to use the name of Phil Ockerman who was the Director
because I feel I must have made a very poor impression upon him,
& have never seen him since then. The only people I can be
pretty sure will speak really well on my behalf are personal friends
who have never had any authority over me.
We have lately been having much trouble with car-tires. Two of
mine have recently blown out & had to be replaced. The second
blowout happened just yesterday, when B was driving her parents
to Fremont. Her father had to change the tire. Replacements have
cost me about $13. Then there is a tire leak which mechanics are
unable to find. All this tire business at least gives me exercise
changing tires, which I rather enjoy.
I read a remarkable article in "Life" about the Passenger
Pigeon & its disappearance. I knew it was a bird which had
become extinct, but never realized how amazingly prolific it had
been, how important it became in the American economy, nor how
rapidly it had been hunted & slaughtered into extinction.
The last one known died in captivity in 1914.
Allen paid a visit late this evening while I was working on my
Africa form. He & his family are now in the process of moving
to Berkeley, & will soon be living only a few minutes away
(by car.) I am glad of this, & wonder how it may change our
lives.
Wednesday, December 27, 1961
(Written Dec. 28) For the time being I have given up even trying
to study. Instead, I spent much of today completing my "Crossroads
Africa" application, trying to make it look as impressive
as possible. I also went & had an interview with Arthur Speigel
at the University YMCA, who apparently is in charge of the program
on this campus. Although I wasn't able to present much evidence
of leadership experience, I had the feeling when I came away that
I still had a good chance of being accepted.
I drove to Oakland to take my tape-record in to Simons, the big
store where I bought it a few weeks ago, since it is guaranteed
for 3 months & has not been working completely satisfactorily.
A repair-man checked it over there, & supposedly put it in
good order, but I wasn't able to talk with him about it as I would
have liked to do.
On the way home, I visited Jack London Square in Oakland for the
first time (mostly restaurants & parking lots) and in Berkeley
stopped for the first time to see the Carricos' new house on Grant
Street, near Stuart. They haven't moved in yet, but Bill Pounds
was alone there painting. He said "Why don't you invite me
home for supper, Ash?" and though this was the last thing
I wanted to do, being hungry & irritable myself, I felt unable
to refuse, since Bill himself is always so hospitable to me &
this really was a case where I would obviously be doing him a
good turn, since there was no gas in the house for him to cook
a meal. So I drove him home (his car, he said, wasn't working
well) & made supper for both of us. It further disturbed me
when he kept saying how hungry he was, & that he expected
to eat a lot. But he obviously did appreciate the meal. I drove
him back as soon as he had finished, simply because I wanted to
get rid of him. I disliked the way he had "intruded"
upon me. It is incidents like this which make me wonder what sort
of person I really am.
Thursday, December 28, 1961
11:30 p.m. I have kept busy all day on menial tasks like laundering
& shopping.
Bill Speth called in the afternoon to say that he & Kit, who
had moved from here on Dec 24 supposedly to spend the rest of
their holiday in an apartment they had rented, had been "evicted"
and again wanted to stay with us. I said OK since I was in a good
mood & in any case couldn't turn them down, but this time
it is really inconvenient for us to have guests, especially because
B had important school-work to do, which as usual she has left
to a late date. But now a further complication has arisen, for
B had been complaining all day of not feeling well, & this
eve I found her temperature was 100.2. I got her to go right to
bed & called the college hospital who advised the usual -
warmth, fluids, aspirin. I don't yet know whether this will affect
the Speths' plans, since they are out this evening (they plan
to leave Saturday) but I doubt it.
Earlier B & I had a "meeting" with Bill at which
I tried to explain some of the problems to which having guests
gives rise with us, in hopes that this would ease some of the
tensions which otherwise tend to arise.
Friday, December 29, 1961
Midnight. B's temperature has not been over 100 today, but she
has stayed in bed all day with me attending her. When one of us
has a cold, we usually sleep apart, & are doing so now, but
B is very affectionate towards me when I take care of her. Her
main worry now is that she has some important school assignments
due.
I on the other hand am becoming less & less worried about
my studies, & more & more resigned to the idea that the
Ph.D. should not be the be-all & end-all of my life. The main
reading I did today was not on U.S. history, but on modern Africa,
a book called "The Reluctant African," about a brief
tour of Africa recently taken by an American negro journalist
named Lomax. The principal point was that race conflict has become
a dominant issue in Africa, to which everything else is subordinate.
Kit & Bill are still with us, but they are being very good
about trying to avoid disturbing us in any way. I am very glad
we had that conference last night.
I took B's car to Steve's garage to have the brake fixed, &
once again he refused to accept any payment. Now at last I have
got both our cars in good running order again, at least temporarily.
Saturday, December 30, 1961
11 p.m. Although I slept till past 10 a.m., I feel tired tonight,
& demoralized.
B is still not well, but insisted on getting up today to work
in the printshop & then go down to San Jose to see her parents.
I went with her, but we were on rather bad terms because I felt
she shouldn't be going at all. We took her parents shopping to
the GEM discount store, but we bought far more than they did;
then had a roast pork supper with them. B's mother was in an exceptionally
exuberant mood, which made her quite good company.
It is hard for me to see a way out of my present demoralization.
The desire to study & try my darnedest to pass my exam on
the 2nd attempt has not yet returned.
Sunday, December 31, 1961
RETROSPECT 1961 With 2 hours left of 1961, with B still sick in
her bedroom but all guests fortunately gone, & no more expected,
I sit here in my room & look back on a year from which I seem
able to derive little satisfaction. My predominant impression
in looking back over the year is one of discontent & a general
lack of progress. This may largely be colored by my present mood;
and also my perspective may be grossly distorted by the one major
recent event, whose outcome might have made all the difference
to my appraisal of 1961.
On October 10 I made the big decision to try my Ph.D. exams this
semester. On December 1, I took the written exam, and on the 14th
I learned that I had failed. This has proved to be a greater blow
than I had anticipated, and, if resumption of studies at full
steam is any indication of recovery, I do not yet seem to have
begun to recover from it.
But let me try to give a more general account of the year to fit
this event into its proper place. In general it has once again
been a year in which my life has been closely interwoven with
Barbara's, and both our lives have been closely connected with
the University of California. During the first half of the year,
Barbara was still an undergraduate, and I was still fulfilling
course requirements necessary before I could take my exams. In
the second half, Barbara became a graduate student working for
her M.A., which she expects to have by next summer, while I, having
fulfilled all course requirements, had nothing to do in the way
of college work but study on my own in preparation for my exams.
The transition was much easier for B than for me, since her study-program
was still highly structured ; but I have always found it difficult
to study independently, and I rapidly became demoralized. My decision
to take the exam in December rather than next April as originally
planned was in fact an attempt to deal with this demoralization
by injecting some urgency into the situation. It had only limited
success, however (quite apart from the outcome of the exam) for
I still often found it very difficult to study & concentrate,
& seem to have done as much worrying as working. The failure
was all the more upsetting in view of the fact that in my earlier
course work I had been quite successful. In fact, I received A's
in all 3 of the courses I took this year: The Gerber undergraduate
course in American Literature, the Stampp seminar in which I did
my paper on Civil War abolitionists during the spring semester,
and the Watt course in Modern English Literature during the first
summer session.
But there is dishearteningly little connection between any of
these courses and the type of study calculated to get me through
the exams, and at present I still feel extremely pessimistic about
my chances of passing if I try again in April.
This academic struggle, then, has been the basic pattern of the
year. With me at this point it seems not to have led anywhere.
With B, on the other hand, there has been steady definite progress.
She graduated according to plan on June 10, and after some hesitation
decided to enter graduate school where, while not outstanding,
she is doing well enough to leave little doubt about her getting
her M.A. next June. Meanwhile she has successfully applied for
a teaching internship which practically guarantees her a secure
place in the teaching profession.
On the economic level, while never affluent, we have in general
this year been comfortably secure. This is primarily due to my
teaching assistantship, paying us about $200 every month. During
the course of the year, I have been a T.A. under 3 different professors:
Ross, Drinnon (for a 6 week summer session) and Sellers. But I
have never enjoyed this job, and in fact seem to have some sort
of mental block against it. In no way do I find it rewarding,
and in general I dislike everything associated with - conducting
classes, holding "office hours," attending T.A. meetings.
Yet in theory I have nothing against it at all, & cannot really
understand why it seems such a burden to me. One possible reason
is that I do not have sufficient grasp of the material myself
to be able to teach it properly. But that is not sufficiently
basic. Why don't I have the grasp by now, after 2 years at this
University in which in theory I have been doing nothing but study
this material? Perhaps more fundamentally I simply do not want
to study. I feel in general that I am here in a false position,
that I do not belong, that I don't share the values, interests,
and goals of my colleagues or my superiors.
Why then continue? One reason is the taunt so often leveled at
me by myself and others that I have never stuck at anything long
enough to make good at it; the belief that if only I do have patience
and fortitude, I will in the end win through, and that I will
then be glad that I stuck at it, and that the goal will prove
somehow worth the attaining. Another reason is simple inertia.
I am here in a situation where I am actually required to do very
little, & I am under contract to receive $200 every month
for the next 6 months for doing it. Moreover my wife is also a
graduate student in the same department in the same university,
and by keeping at it till June, I am helping her toward that time
when she will need no further help from me, & may indeed soon
thereafter be able to help me.
In addition to my T.A. job, our finances have mainly depended
upon B's part-time jobs as printer in the Herbarium print-shop
and cashier at the Y.W.C.A., plus occasional odd-jobs, gifts from
my parents, and selling of antiques which they have sent. Our
rent has cost a steady $90 per month, but we have managed to keep
our food expenses remarkably low, averaging less than 70 cents
per day each (with B receiving a meal every school day at the
YWCA in exchange for her work).
My relationship with B still has its ups and downs, but in general
the bonds between us seem constantly to be becoming stronger.
There is no question that in general we understand each other
very well. In certain areas we have made great progress. At the
beginning of this year, we began a system of regular weekly family
meetings, at which to discuss common problems, a system which
has not always been maintained (there was a recent lapse of several
weeks while I was exam-preoccupied) but which is still in force.
In addition, we have a regular financial meeting once each month
at which we adjust our finances (often a delicate matter since
we are not on terms of economic equality). These meetings do serve
a valuable purpose in enabling us to discuss in suitable circumstances
problems which there may be no time or opportunity to discuss
when they first arise, or whose discussion is best postponed until
emotions have cooled.
This kind of factor evidences the remarkable stability of this
year. It has in fact been for me a year of less change and irregularity
than any previous year since 1949. For it is the first year since
then that I have not changed my residence or my job or gone on
any important travels. Yet, within this framework of stability
and security, the whole structure has been irregular and lacking
in real stability, because we know it is all temporary, and because
we are plagued by a sense of uncertainty about the future.
One way in which B & I have come closer is in improving our
relationships with each other's parents. B has done much to reconcile
my parents to our relationship by becoming at my & my mother's
behest, an official Jew. I in turn have come closer to B's parents
by showing my willingness to help them economically to the extent
of giving them regularly $20 per month. B's father in particular
is now much more friendly than he used to be, & the 4 of us
can now sit down to eat together.
There has also been a growing tendency evident this year for us
each to acknowledge the other's freedom of movement. Although
I have had some very difficult periods when B has been away overnight
or longer, usually in San Jose, I have usually managed to adjust
to such absences, & even for the first time went away from
her voluntarily on my own for several days to visit Larry in Oroville
at Thanksgiving. B on her part has come to show less willingness
to be away from me for long periods, & now often urges me
to come with her when she goes to San Jose, even for the day.
She finds that my presence makes her visits to her parents less
painful than they often otherwise are.
I have also been willing for B to go out with other men, a practice
which began in February of this year. So far there are only 2
fellows she has had evening dates with - Lewis "Beaver"
Nash with whom she went out 2 or more times & who has since
got married, and Harold, a current library-friend. She has had
many other male friends, & often they call her up for dates,
but usually she turns them down. I do not mind any of this, though
I generally make a comic pretence of minding, so long as B tells
me all about it, as I'm confident she does. In fact, she likes
talking about it. These friendships boost her ego.
There has been little serious talk about marriage between us lately
because the decision is not entirely up to B. We currently have
a marriage license which is good until the end of January, and
we could make use of it any time she gives the word. But B wants
some kind of a planned formal ceremony, & has not yet had
leisure to give that serious thought. Nevertheless she still makes
it plain that there are certain ways in which she still insists
on behaving towards me which would be different if we were legally
married. E.g., she suggests that her sexual behavior would be
less inhibited. At present, according to her code, she can never
enter my bedroom after dark unless the blind is drawn. She usually
brings her pillow in at night, & takes it out again in the
morning. She is still generally reluctant to appear naked before
me, and only rarely is she at all sexually aggressive, even in
bed. But we do have more or less complete sexual intercourse at
least a few times each month, with me always wearing 2 rubbers.
B has so far refused to consider any other methods of birth control,
even the new pills we have heard about. In general, however, I
have few complaints to make about our sex life. But when B is
not sleeping with me, I almost invariably take the opportunity
to masturbate, as if to express my sexual independence.
Once again, we have had many visitors during the year, including
B's mother and mine, & almost invariably I have had mental
problems in adjusting to them. The best answer seems to be to
hold a conference with them as soon as they arrive, establish
a basis of honesty, & try to deal with problems before they
arise.
Once again, I do not seem to have made a single new friend this
year. But I have held on to the old ones, & as time passes,
I come to cherish them more & more. Hartley & Margie Kern
have now been away 1 ½ years, but we hear from them so
frequently that it is hard to believe. Their trip, in which they
are living & working in countries for long periods of time
(so far all in Western Europe) seems to have been extremely successful.
I don't know when they'll return, but we feel as close to them
as ever.
Allen & Myra Carrico returned from New Zealand in July, after
having "emigrated" for less than a year, bringing with
them their beautiful new baby boy Glenn. They went to live at
the Peace Center in Palo Alto, but are just now in the process
of moving to Berkeley, & will be living only a few minutes
away from here, so I should be seeing much more of them in future,
& will have some definite place to go when I need company
& B isn't here.
Kit & Bill Speth, who were our only long-standing Berkeley
friends, but whom we rarely saw, moved to Oregon in the fall when
Bill got a teaching job at a Junior College in Bend. We are still
more or less in touch with old friends like Steve White, Walt
McQuesten, & Gale Galant, though we rarely see them, since
they live in San Francisco. Larry Kirsch has been our most frequent
visitor, & there are at least 2 activities that I can always
enjoy with him: table-tennis & hiking. Steve Kern, Hartley's
brother, comes sometimes, but I seem unable to get close to him.
Roget & Nancy Sharp fall into an entirely different category,
since Roger is still a fellow T.A. of mine, but we are no closer
to them than we were a year ago.
I still have friends in Los Angeles with whom I keep in some contact:
Gerry Goldstein, whose visit here in Aug-September caused me great
mental suffering; Howard Dessent, whose shorter visit in July
also caused me pain when he borrowed my car & had trouble
with it; Andy & Elaine Heinsius, whom I haven't seen now for
2 years.
But the "Los Angeles picture" has been totally upset
by one of the most dramatic, exciting, & memorable events
of the year, whose full details we have yet to learn - my sister
Myrna's sudden news on December 1 that she was intending to get
married. Since then, she has apparently moved to Las Vegas with
her fiancée Dick, whence she phoned to borrow $50 from
me. We have heard nothing more.
Another dramatic & for me very memorable event occurred at
the beginning of the year, when I was suddenly stricken by appendicitis,
& spent a week in the university hospital. The experience
has left nothing but pleasant memories, and a scar on my body
which I hardly even take notice of any more. That was, I think,
my only serious physical illness this year.
Mentally, however, my health has been far from good. The most
superficial examination of my diary pages makes it plain how often
I have been depressed, moody, sometimes being almost completely
invalidated by mental malfunctioning. This despite the fact that
for most of the year I was theoretically under the "care"
of a psychiatrist, Dr. Fernandez, whom I saw at the university
hospital for one hour every Tuesday afternoon almost every week
almost every week between Feb 7 and October 10. His "technique"
was in general very non-directive, and although on rare occasions
he seemed to give me new insights into my problems, in general
I simply cannot feel that he really helped me. I went voluntarily,
always hoping that some good would come of it, but my faith in
psychiatrists is now less than ever. And I think I spent more
time with Fernandez than I have with any other doctor. I am not
of course complaining that he did not "cure" me of all
my problems. But I don't even have the impression that we made
much real progress at all.
In one way, however, I have, I feel, achieved a great mental and
physical victory this year, and it was accomplished with the help
of a doctor, one whose name deserves to be recorded here: Dr.
Homrighausen - again, at the university hospital. For he took
the trouble to talk seriously and at length with me about my weight
problem, when I asked for help in preventing myself from gaining
weight, as I had after every previous diet. (This notable interview
took place on May 4) And he convinced me on simple terms that
the only answer was constant calorie control. It happened that
I felt highly motivated to follow his advice, and since then I
have kept a careful daily account of my calorie intake, maintained
a daily average of 2300, and have thus managed to keep my weight
down to about 160 lb, where it should be, and kept control of
my waistline. This in fact was probably my most remarkable achievement
of the year.
Another project, which has so far been much less successful, was
my application to become a U.S. citizen. I expected this to be
a matter of a few weeks or months at most, as it was with Myrna,
but the thing has been dragging on now since March, & I still
have no idea when if ever I will be admitted to citizenship. The
process has so far involved an anguished interview at the immigration
office (April 7), which resulted in my formal registration for
selective service the same day ( I was later classified 5A, meaning
over-age, & therefore in no danger of being called) and a
harrowing brush with the F.B.I. (June 13). But by now I am beginning
to become really worried about it, since it could affect my teaching
credential and my new "Crossroads Africa" project. (On
the application form I said I was a citizen, fearing that otherwise
my chances of being accepted would be jeopardized & hoping
that this would become true before next summer anyway.
(Continuing now on January 1, 1962) The more I think about it,
the more impressed I am by the comparative regularity of the course
of my life in 1961: the regular pay-checks, the regular family
meetings, calorie-records (since May), psychiatric sessions, diary
entries. Yet there has been no such thing as a regular daily routine.
For the majority of my waking hours, I have been theoretically
free to spend my time however I wished, but have never established
any kind of pattern. Bed-time, meal-times, rising times have never
become systematized. I still usually go on the toilet immediately
upon rising, & there spend the better part of an hour, at
the same time reading, shaving with my electric shaver, &
often writing the previous day's diary entry. For many months
I had a "standard" breakfast of a toasted cheese sandwich,
cereal & tea, until I grew heartily tired of it. (I haven't
yet found a suitable variation). And I still have a more or less
standard pre-bedtime snack of hot chocolate with toast, peanut
butter & marmalade or jam.
The food-and-study problem has never been satisfactorily solved,
although I have tried many different solutions - studying at home,
taking sandwiches to the library, eating in the cafeteria, coming
home just for meals. My ideal solution would be to have the library
open all the time & a dining-room right there with reasonably
priced food always available. But there is no dining room or food
available anywhere in the building or near it.
I have done very little traveling this year, and only in one or
other of our own cars (which incidentally have required considerable
effort & money to keep in running order, which is now my responsibility,
except that B pays for repairs on her car.) A couple of trips
to Salinas & Monterey, once to Fort Ross, & once to Oroville
have been my longest journeys. But I have not been without desire
to travel. In particular, I have often longed to be able to visit
places about which I have studied, especially the U.S. East Coast,
both north & south. When in December I heard of this Crossroads
Africa project, it sounded like just "my cup of tea."
And I have done my best to make an impressive application. What
most attracts me is that it is a chance to visit, without cost,
a part of the world where I have never been.
We have not made so many material acquisitions this year as last.
I have still managed to get a few books and records through coupon
swindles, but hardly any compared with last year's flood. We actually
suffered a heavy loss when B's bicycle was stolen in April &
we had to buy a new one. My bike too was stolen in September,
but I was able to recover it very rapidly (see Sept. 15) though
the thief (identity still uncertain) has gone unpunished. My most
notable acquisition has been the December purchase of my first
tape-recorder, the fulfillment of many years of wishing. At the
same time, we bought B an electric mixer.
There are now few species of material possessions which I don't
have but would like. Instead I simply would like better things
than I have now - a better (newer) encyclopedia; a better (more
reliable & economical) car; a better (better quality, playing
longer tapes) tape-recorder; a better (easier to use & more
dependable) Polaroid camera. Incidentally I have made surprisingly
little use of the Polaroid camera I bought a year ago, mainly
because it has proved too difficult to get a good picture each
time, especially indoors, & because the film is so expensive.
But in general I am materially very satisfied. Even this apartment,
though I have often found much fault with it, is in general quite
satisfactory for us while we are both here at the university.
Other notable events of the year: my first official college lecture,
on slavery, delivered in Drinnon's course on July 21, which caused
me a surprising amount of anxiety; the biggest library fine I
hope I will ever have to pay -- $13.20, paid on July 7; the day
I went shopping with B & bought myself nearly $100 worth of
clothing (September 23); my first experience as a college "advisor"
(September); my financing (to the extent of $60) of B's trip of
B's trip with her mother to Disneyland (Aug 25-29).
But the events of 1961 which will probably have most bearing upon
my personal future were B's graduation, conversion, & internship;
my citizenship application; my dieting victory; and my exam failure;
and possibly - who knows? - the Myrna affair.
I have forgotten to mention my rather feeble attempts to pursue
my literary ambitions, the only positive outcome being a little
campus controversy I stirred up about the merits of bowling, by
having several letters printed in the Daily Cal.
Also there is my work for SERVAS. In theory B & I were supposed
to be in on this together, but it has become almost wholly my
concern, and I have spent considerable time, mostly in correspondence.
In my more optimistic moments, I see this SERVAS project as something
which I could develop into the major interest & concern of
my life, as Allen has done with the peace movement. I like the
idea of becoming the leading light of an international organization,
since this would combine my interest in furthering peace, in travelling,
& in bolstering my own sense of importance. But it would also
require the development of many talents & abilities which
I do not yet notably display, especially that of handling people.
If I do not pass my exam again in April, & if I do get accepted
for Operation Crossroads Africa, my mind may begin to run much
more strongly in this direction. For, as I have been saying to
Barbara, but as I rarely pause to realize, everybody must have
in their lives some basic value, some sense of purpose, some philosophy,
upon which their lives, whether consciously or unconsciously,
are built. My life in recent years has been built upon little
but an unenlightened sheer selfishness, to some extent diluted
by a great concern for B, but not extending much beyond her to
other people. It is above all a widening of horizons which I seek
in 1962.
Monday, January 1, 1962
(Written Jan 2) Although B's temperature was practically down
to normal, she stayed in bed again all day, & I prepared most
of her meals.
In a burst of new-year energy, I accomplished a task I had long
been contemplating, of typing up a new SERVAS host list, the second
"edition" I will have brought out.
I worried a good deal about resuming my T.A. functions tomorrow,
but only late in the evening did I begin any real preparation.
B has in general not been too difficult a patient, but sometimes
she gets awkward, e.g. complaining that she is hungry but that
there is nothing in the house that she wants to eat (and we are
quite well-stocked with food.)
Tuesday, January 2, 1962
8p.m. In an elated mood today. Causes? Perhaps in part a visit
here by Allen yesterday evening, in which he urged me to orient
my life around what interests me & what I enjoy, rather than
around feelings of compulsion (e.g. to get a degree.) He suggested
I make a list of all the things I enjoy doing, with a view to
seeking or creating a profession in which most of them can be
incorporated. Accordingly, I did just that this morning &
wrote a kind of new statement of life-policy, in which I declared
my intention to liberate myself from compulsiveness, come up from
my subterranean existence, & really set about enjoying life.
Even before this, I had found, 8-10 a.m., that I felt unusually
relaxed & confident in conducting my 2 morning sections, even
though I had dreaded their coming right up until they began.
This afternoon I did quite a bit of SERVAS correspondence, including
a sympathetic letter to an L.A. family, who have asked to be taken
off the host-list because they had too many visitors. The significant
thing was my willingness to take time & trouble in this correspondence,
& give a bit more of myself than I usually do.
B got up today, but remained at home in her pajamas all day.
I'm certainly glad the Christmas holiday is over. This aft I went
to see Mr. Stocking, one of the 3 examiners who had marked &
failed my written exam. He spent about 1 ½ hours with me
& we went over every question. I was still in an unusually
outgoing mood. Like Mr. May, he told me mine was definitely the
poorest of the papers he had marked - "skimpy" was the
adjective he mainly employed. My answers were lacking in organization,
in depth, even in length. I was far too general, too vague, too
apparently confused, gave little evidence of any real knowledge
of anything. He had not a single kind thing to say, except that
he felt I must be more capable than would appear by my answers,
since I had been a T.A. for 2 years. His comments, while fair
& generally, I think, correct, did not give me any hope that
I would be able to do better in April. Yet I remain convinced
that the most important factor is the state of mind in which I
take the examination. Although I entered the exam room on Dec
1 relatively calm, my answers seem to indicate that I more or
less went to pieces when I tried to write. But also I had little
idea of what was expected of me, & have a much better idea
now.
Another letter from my parents expressing great anxiety about
Myrna, but with no more information than we have already had,
except that Myrna, besides borrowing money from Mother & me,
also asked Marsh for a loan of $400, of which he unwillingly sent
her part. According to my mother, all this money trouble stems
from Myrna's need to keep up the payments on her new car, of which
she even had to pawn the spare wheel! But it seems Dick has secured
a job paying $600 a month, & although there remains a chance
that he has been "taking Myrna for a ride," I still
think all will work out well.
Wednesday, January 3, 1962
11 p.m. I continued today my current idea of doing what I enjoy,
reading a very interesting book about psychological experimens,
going to the Motor Vehicles office & insurance company to
pay bills (strangely I do enjoy paying bills, especially when
I can do it promptly & in person & when I am paying for
future security, although it is surprising how much our 2 cars
cost us to operate, considering how little use we make of them
-- $10 each just register them, & about $45 per year each
for insurance); helping B type part of a report, listening to
a salesman whom came here to try to sell us land in Madera (it
seems a really good deal as an investment, but we couldn't possibly
afford it) and going with B to see a program of short Polish films
at college, mostly experimental in character - cartoons, puppets,
paintings, symbolism, satire: the first Polish films I think I
have seen - generally enjoyable, if a little too "far-out"
for my taste.
I also went to a talk by a student who was in Africa with "Operation
Crossroads" last summer, & for the first time heard a
first-hand account of the program. The impression I got was that
it would be extremely interesting & enjoyable to be a participant,
especially since, to my surprise, it appears that Americans, at
least in this project, are clamorously welcomed & feted wherever
they go. But I learned very little about what would be expected
of me as a group leader.
My generally elated state has continued.
Thursday, January 4, 1962
7 p.m. Having already seen May & Stocking, I went today to
talk to the 3rd of the 3 men who marked the written exam which
I took & failed on Dec. 1. I am still in my elated state,
& found that I could talk quite frankly to Mr. Bean about
my bitterness at failing, my great fear of failing if I try again
in April, my feeling of being an outsider as regards both faculty
and my fellow-students. Bean was the only one of the 3 who had
anything positive to say about my answers at all. He said he would
have given a passing mark to 2 of my 4 answers. He also said he
was confident (having had me in his seminar in 1960) that I had
not put forth my best in this exam, & indeed I think he said
he was quite surprised to learn that I had failed. (Presumably
he too hadn't known whose papers he was marking.) But he went
on his guard when I seemed to be criticizing the way the Ph.D.
program is set up, & when I asked him to look at a sample
answer I had written to one of the exam questions, & say if
he thought it would be good enough to pass, he said he didn't
think it was "proper" to approach the exam in this way.
I had stressed that my difficulty arose partly because I couldn't
profitably study things in which I'm not interested, & there
are many aspects of history which just don't interest me . He,
as I might have expected, replied that I have a "responsibility"
to "discipline" myself and "broaden" my interests.
I left feeling very dissatisfied - that I had tried to communicate
with him (which I hadn't even dared try with May & Stocking)
but that he is too much a part of the system himself for this
to succeed.
I now feel in a baffling predicament. According to Bean, I can
only try the exam one more time. If I fail again, then my career
at Cal, as far as a Ph.D. is concerned, is presumably finished
permanently. Also, according to Bean, my paper next time would
probably not be marked by the same 3 people as this time. Of course,
I really would like to pass, if I possibly could. But at the moment,
I seem to have a mental block against it. The task seems both
too difficult & too unpleasant for me to take it up again.
How much, after all, can I read between now & April? And how
much good would it do me when I once again have to sit down &
answer 4 questions spontaneously in 4 hours? If I am to try again
in April, then I must very soon get back to work, & work very
hard. But at the moment I have no desire to do so, & indeed
my present elation seems at least in part to be a result of getting
rid of what Allen calls the sense of compulsion I have had in
connection with the degree program.
Perhaps a desire to study and a resolution to push on to the bitter
end will return; but I can only say at this point that it had
better be soon. In the meantime, I am ironically marking my own
students' papers, and, strangely (because of my elation) almost
enjoying the task rather than finding it sheer drudgery.
Friday, January 5, 1962
11:50 p.m. My mood underwent a perceptible change today from its
recent elated state. An uneasiness began to replace the happiness
I had been feeling as I continued to do simple chores like taking
a shower (with a special shampoo-plus-lotion effort to get rid
of my dandruff) and marking papers. I didn't go on campus until
this afternoon, when I turned in a form at the History office
announcing my interest in job possibilities for the fall. I happened
to see Mr. Sellers, & learned for the first time that not
he but Mr. May will be lecturer in the second half of the American
History survey course in which I am T.A. next semester.
At home again my uneasiness continued. Unable to apply myself
to any other project, I sat down to read a new "Life"
magazine. Then came a ring at the doorbell announcing our old
friend Walt McQuesten, whom we haven't seen for a long time. He
had just recently got married, & returned today by air from
a honeymoon in New York. His wife Carol, whom he met while both
were studying at S.F. State, was with him. Unfortunately B wasn't
here, so, as often, I had to do the entertaining when I wasn't
in the mood for it.
But then came a surprise development - a telephone invitation
from Allen, Myra, & Bill Pounds to go & have supper with
them tonight. Since Walt is also a friend of theirs, 3 of us went.
But by now I had sunk into a deeper moodiness, which seemed to
be aggravated by the heat and child-noise there, so I didn't stay
long after supper, but did show Allen the list I had written on
Jan. 2 (q.v.)
After coming home, I decided to go to the library & try to
study. I was able to finish George Kennan's American Diplomacy
1900-1950 which struck me as very sensible, & made me feel
that if we must have diplomats, I would prefer the Kennan type,
even though he comes out strongly against international idealism.
Our social position here seems to be altering fast. I have the
impression of numerous friends making increasingly frequent visits
& phone calls. Steve Kern & his girlfriend Judy came late
yesterday evening. Today, Walt & his new wife, who are now
living & teaching in San Leandro.
But my problem is becoming one of going about my studies in a
way likely at least to carry me next time through the exam. For
the time being, I seem to have had enough of Allen's "interest-oriented"
approach to life. More than anything else, I seem to need a challenge,
a goal. And there it is, staring me in the face, taunting me.
It seems I must rise to meet this challenge. It seems I can do
no other.
Saturday, January 6, 1962
11:45 p.m. I tried to study today, but had all the usual problems-getting
up too lat, worrying about meals, having the library open too
few hours (it closes at 5 on Saturdays) being unable to get interested
in my work. (I looked through 2 issues of the Mississippi Valley
Historical Review, & my main reaction was one of repugnance)
having obligations to B (we spent the whole evening on a long
& long-overdue family meeting). My study problem overwhelms
me, & I just don't know where to turn for help. B says she
wants me to keep on & try again. My "adviser" says
it's my own responsibility. My psychiatrist was of no help at
all. My best friend, Allen, says I should only do what I enjoy
doing. It is all very distressing, yet somehow at the moment I
am not worried about it. Somehow all will work out for the best.
Sunday, January 7, 1962
1 p.m.I have just come to the library, which has just opened for
the day & will be open until 11 p.m. I have brought enough
food with me to last until then, & am in a good mood. Is there
not yet hope for me?
9:25 I have now been in the library for 8 ½ hours. For
the first few hours, I was able to work well & enthusiastically
& I compiled a list of 121 important historians with whom
I should be familiar. About 4 p.m. I became hungry, & at some
brownies, which held me until about 5:30. By then I was hungry
enough to eat supper , & had my usual library supper of 1
egg sandwich, 1 peanut butter & jam sandwich, a banana, &
some chocolate. But soon afterwards, as so often happens, I found
my ability to concentrate deteriorating. That old feeling of physical
excitement came over me, & I just couldn't go on working.
I am never sure whether or not this has anything to do with my
eating. Did I have too large a meal? Too rich a meal? Too much
at one time? Or is it just a symptom of fatigue, after being here
so many hours? I don't really feel tired, & I do want to go
on working, but I fear I am going to have to stop.
And as usual, I seem to have accomplished remarkably little. Apart
from the list of historians, I have merely looked up something
about W.A.Dunning, the Reconstruction historian, and done a little
work in the historiography of Reconstruction, mostly making notes
on an article by T. Harry Williams. Even doing this much, I had
earlier this eve to take off half an hour & browsed in Life
magazine. The reason I am concentrating on Reconstruction historiography
is that that was the topic on which I wrote my poorest exam answer.
Monday, January 8, 1962
(Written Jan 9) This week is the last week of classes in this
semester. My T.A. duties are nearly over, except for marking final
exams.
I went to the Acts for Peace headquarters this aft to get my 1962
edition of the California SERVAS list duplicated. Allen was there,
& I told him, with some pride in my independence of mind,
that the final upshot of his recent challenge to me to live my
life in such a ways as to include a maximum of activities which
I enjoy has been to confirm me in my belief that I live best when
I have a clear and attainable goal before me, and that my present
Ph.D. goal was obviously the one to which I should currently give
my full attention.
Yes, I have really started back to work again, & was at the
library for 6 or 7 hours today. But at present, I feel greatly
confused as to how to attack the task before me. The problems
of what to read, what to write, & how to remember continue
to plague me. The only final answer is to test everything against
the criterion "how much will this help me on the exam?"
But that is the question which I usually can't answer.
Tuesday, January 9, 1962
10 p.m. I've had insufficient sleep the last 2 nights, & today
awoke with a sore throat which has been with me all day. I fear
I am coming down with a cold, perhaps associated with a sudden
change to abnormally warm weather, which began yesterdayt.
In connection with my application to be a group leader in the
Crossroads Africa program, I had listed Allen as one of my references.
I told him I would be willing to save him the trouble of filling
in the reference form when it arrived by doing it myself, &
he agreed to this. Today he called to say the form had arrived.
I went down & picked it up, brought it back here, & actually
spent most of the afternoon filling it in (except, of course,
for the signature). It was the first time I had ever written a
reference for myself, & it proved much more difficult &
less pleasant than I expected (perhaps partly because of my poor
health). The form was surprisingly long & detailed, &
concentrated on the positive & negative aspects of leadership
capacity. I was torn between the desires to sound convincing,
to sell myself, but to avoid violating my conscience. My conscience
balks at deliberate lies, but will tolerate many kinds of half-truths.
With the final result I was not very satisfied, but this is after
all only one of my 6 references, & the only one I will write
myself. Of the others, one, I know, has already been written,
by Gene Angstadt, the SERVAS administrator in New York, from whom
I received a letter today. I still feel that I have a chance to
be accepted for the project, but can't avoid the feeling that
I am selling my soul to achieve that end.
B has some papers to write, which as usual she has left to the
very last, & so is in her usual panic, & staying up late
to write. I am going to bed early, after having accomplished virtually
no useful studying today at all.
Wednesday, January 10, 1962
3 p.m. A letter has arrived from my parents which puts the strange
affair of my sister Myrna in a much less pleasant & hopeful
light than it has been possible hitherto to view it. It seems
that ever since Myrna went to Las Vegas with Dick Moore sometime
last month she has been telephoning repeatedly to our parents
in England (reversing the charges), asking them again & again
for more money; so far they have given her, directly & indirectly
(some through Marsh) $1650! In addition she also borrowed $50
from me (see Dec. 19). On Dec. 31, according to today's letter,
she telephoned England to say that her wallet containing all the
money sent thus far (I'm not sure how much of the $1650 that was)
had been stolen, and she desperately needed more, so more was
sent. In that or another telephone conversation she "threatened
to throw herself in the river if Pater did not send money."
In the meantime, Dick, who was supposed to have got a $600 a month
job in a gas station, was now, according to Myrna, in hospital
with a broken leg. The most recent word, written in at the bottom
of the letter, was another phone call from Myrna to England on
January 6, saying that she was leaving Dick and returning to Los
Angeles. Many questions thus now crave answers: Just what sort
of a person is this Dick Moore? Has he been deliberately exploiting
Myrna for her & her parents' money? How much of what Myrna
has said about the supposed job, the broken leg, the theft of
the money, and now her intention to leave Dick is true? (One other
thing she told our parents was that she had a switchboard job
in Las Vegas for a short time, but it paid only $10 a day, so
she gave it up.) Did she & Dick live together? Did they get
married? How important in the situation was Myrna's new, &
unpaid for car? And will I ever get my $50 back again?
Today's letter suggests for the first time that I myself might
at this point take some kind of hand in the situation, at least
by writing to Myrna c/o Marsh. The only thing I can think of doing
is inviting her to come & stay here. Since this affair began
(see Dec 1, 1961), Parents have obviously from their letters been
profoundly upset.
11:15 p.m. My "cold" & sore throat have continued
today, but I still have no temperature. I went to the University
hospital this morning, & was there given a variety of free
medicines by the doctor: gargle-powder, nose-drops, cold capsules,
& aspirin compound. I have tried all but the nose-drops (nose
not congested) but none seems to have helped much so far. Anyway,
I hate gargling. My visit to the hospital involved one novel &
unpleasant experience. The doctor saw that my throat was inflamed,
& directed me to the laboratory downstairs to get a "throat
culture." I had never undergone this before, but supposed
that if it did involve obtaining some germs from my throat for
analysis, there must be some easy & painless way of doing
this. I was speedily disillusioned, for the process consists simply
of poking cotton-swabbed sticks down one's throat. Although I
wanted to cooperate, I repeatedly gagged & recoiled. It was
most unpleasant, & to make things worse, the nurse did not
seem very sympathetic. She said I should cooperate by swallowing
while the stick was in my throat, but I found this impossible
to do. At length, after 4 or 5 tries, she apparently was satisfied
& let me go. I am to learn the result tomorrow.
I have been able to stay out of bed today, but felt sluggish &
out of sorts all day & stayed home this aft & evening
rather than going to study in the library. The morning was partly
filled with T.A. duties. My usual Wednesday office hour took longer
than usual, since there were the usual end-of-semester worries
that several students had about their grades to discuss.
I spent the afternoon writing to Myrna & my parents, &
the evening reading some Schlesinger about the New Deal, &
Arthur Bryant about England in 1840. I still greatly regret that
my studies have never become organized.
Thursday, January 11, 1962
After midnight. My cold continues, but a little less grievously,
sniffles now replacing a sore throat as the major symptom. I went
back to the hospital today, & was told by the Dr. that my
"throat culture" had shown my cold wasn't serious.
I studied in the library, reading Arthur Bryant's "English
Saga," & although this is a minor, & not my major
field, I feel glad that I could read so easily & take an interest
in what I was reading.
My acquaintance Goldberg, who failed his written exam at the same
time I failed mine (but in his case, he just barely failed) told
me when I asked how one decides what to read, that he feels it
isn't so important exactly what you are reading, so long as it
is relevant to your field. This sounded like good advice to me,
for I feel I have been worrying far too much about what books
I should put my time into. But my confidence concerning my chances
in the April exam remains at this point very low.
Friday, January 12, 1962
11:10 p.m. I believe that a positive change is coming over me
with regard to my studies. I am beginning to realize and to take
to heart the fact that the exam I try in April will be my last
chance to make good on a project in which I have now been engaged
for 2 years.
When I tried in December, I knew that if I didn't pass, I could
try again; and even after learning that I had failed, I wasn't
sure that I would be allowed only one more chance. But now I am
sure. I spoke with my advisor Mr. May today, & asked him what
was to become of Marion Taylor, who failed for the second time
in December, & he made it plain that her lot was now to go
into Junior College teaching; in other words, as far as UC is
concerned, she is through. With this realization that my back
is now to the wall, a sense of grim determination is beginning
to replace my previous irresolution and anxiety. Accordingly,
I am beginning really to get down to work: concentrated steady
effort.
Today I got through the whole of Hamlin Garland's A Son of the
Middle Border, which I've long wanted to read, skimming freely.
And I began what looks like an important book on American character
called People of Plenty, by David Potter. I spent much time just
collecting books to read, always a laborious & time-consuming
task. My goal at this point should be to work instead of worry.
Steady intelligent work will see me through.
Saturday, January 13, 1963
11 p.m. In accordance with yesterday's resolve, I have spent the
whole day at my books: morning & afternoon at the library,
& this evening here in my room; and, apart from one spell
of mild depression when I came home to an empty apartment for
supper (B was studying elsewhere) I have managed to keep spirits
& concentration at a high level. I finished Potter's People
of Plenty, an attempt to analyze American character in terms of
the single concept of ever-present abundance. Then I read Woodward's
Strange Career of Jim Crow, and account of segregation, and this
evening began Howells' novel A Hazard of New Fortunes, which Mr.
May told me yesterday is to be required reading this coming semester
in the course in which he will be lecturing & I will be a
T.A.
I still have a slight cold, but it troubles me little.
Sunday, January 14, 1962
12:20 a.m. Another day of solid work, in the library from about
1:30 to 11 p.m. Dismayed by one book I tried to read: The Liberal
Tradition in America, by Louis Hart - abstract intellectual history
of a kind I just can't read with profit. I got the main points
by reading reviews of it. What a contrast with the Howells novel,
of which I'm able to read 36 pages an hour.
I am resolved, as soon as practicable, to begin giving myself
full-scale 4-hour practice examinations, preferably in the morning
from 8 to 12. This, combined with steady reading, seems at this
point the best way to proceed.
B has been very busy lately writing term papers, & often s
Monday, January 15, 1962
12:15 a.m. More good reading, & my spirits continue high.
There's really no reason why they shouldn't remain this way. Apart
from a very depressing T.A. meeting with Mr. Sellers in which
as usual I took very little part, and an hour spent conducting
an outdoor "review seminar" for those of my students
who wished to come & discuss the semester's work before the
final exam, I once again spent all day in the library till 11
p.m., and got into 2 new books: Herbert Agar's American political
history The Price of Union, which, though long, is very readable,
and Booker T. Washington's famous autobiography, Up From Slavery.
I am beginning to realize what a fortunate position I am in, to
have plenty of time to read all the American history books I have
always wanted to read, and to have before me the prospect of a
glittering reward for reading them carefully & with understanding.
Tuesday, January 16, 1962
(Written Jan 17) Steady study continues. If I didn't have such
difficulty getting up early in the morning, I could spend more
than 12 hours in the library every day. Today, however, through
late rising, helping B with a paper, & going to the Grove
Street Peace Center to pick up the 300 copies of the new SERVAS
host list which I had had mimeographed there, I was there for
only about 10 ½ hours. I realize I mustn't overdo this
study-drive. On the other hand, I think I am quite capable of
concentrated steady work for the next 3 or 4 months, & that
is what I need, in order to carry me through the exam. Each book
I read at this point adds greatly to my knowledge & understanding.
Today I finished Howells' Hazard of New Fortunes & Booker
T. Washington's Up From Slavery, both of which I really enjoyed.
Agar's Price of Union which I'm also reading is not so easy, but
I think it is worth the effort, since it sets forth the political
history of the U.S. in a very lucid way.
Wednesday, January 17, 1962
12:40 a.m. At & after the 2 ½ hour 17A final examination
at which I had to put in an appearance as a T.A. today, to invigilate
& collect my students' papers, I became for some reason quite
depressed & pessimistic about my Ph.D. prospects. For a time
afterwards, I saw everything in the gloomiest light. It seemed
very unlikely that I would pass the written exam on my second
& last try. If I did, it seemed even less possible that I
would pass the oral on the first attempt, which would mean a prolongation
of my study-ordeal until December. And if at length I did pass,
then the degree would still be years off - years spent hunched
unwillingly over books in soul-destroying library cells.
Fortunately this mood did not persist, & the evening found
me studying quite happily & becoming quite interested in Hicks'
Populist Revolt. The major cause was probably the final exam business.
Contact with my fellow T.A.s almost invariably depresses me. I
always get the impression that they know & understand so much
more than I do. I get a feeling of intellectual inferiority, &
am afraid to express myself in any positive way. I cannot be myself.
I can't be honest. And this kind of feeling naturally colors my
view of my exam prospects & academic future.
But when studying independently, I don't feel this way. I think
by now I probably have a pretty good grasp of the things that
are important in American History. My problem is in expressing
myself. . . . or does it after all go deeper than that? Anyway,
the important thing is that I find myself here in a certain position
faced with a certain task, and the thing to do is to tackle it
as best I can. My chief difficulties here are that I am not, &
never can be, certain of the exact nature of the task, & I
am not perfectly free to devote my entire attention to it.
Thursday, January 18, 1962
(Written Jan 19) Things didn't go so well for me today. I had
a hard time trying to concentrate on my studies, & by about
7:30 p.m. I had to give it up altogether. I did manage, however,
to write a one-hour practice exam answer, & I got some reading
done.
My inability to work made me depressed. I thought of going to
a movie (B was out at a teaching-intern meeting) but decided it
wouldn't help. Instead, I browsed at the UC bookstore, & after
a couple of hours felt much better, & was able to come home
& read some more.
If only I could work steadily every day without being moody.
At her meeting this eve B received her first offer of a teaching
job. There seems little doubt that her path of success is marked
out clearly for her now. I wish mine were as clear.
Friday, January 19, 1962
12:20 p.m. Another agonized letter about Myrna arrived from my
parents today. Three days ago, it seems, Myrna put in yet another
collect telephone call to them. They had resolved not to accept
any more calls from Las Vegas (they cost at least $12 each time)
but naturally my mother couldn't refuse when it came. Once again
Myrna was asking for money, while giving hardly any information
about herself. My mother thinks she said that Dick told her to
call "and tell you the condition I am in." Contrary
to last report (see Jan 10) Myrna is apparently still with Dick,
& unwilling to go back to Los Angeles. She said this time
that Dick was working "as a security man" and that they
wanted the money "to get married." My mother has now
definitely decided that Dick is exploiting Myrna in some way,
and she is thinking now in terms of getting the police to investigate.
The mystery is becoming increasingly baffling & alarming.
What can possibly have made Myrna so desperate for money that
she has called again & again to England, to Marsh in L.A.,
& even to me? It seems that the only way to find out would
be to go to Las Vegas & find Myrna; but she has given no address
but General Delivery and it might prove very difficult to find
her even if I went there. I got B to write her a letter today,
hoping that it might elicit a reply, & perhaps an address.
This is certainly the strangest episode in the entire history
of my family.
Fortunately I had no difficulty in studying today, & became
quite absorbed in The Perils of Prosperity, a book on the 1920's
by Leuchtenberg.
Saturday, January 20, 1962
(Written Jan 21) More study. Trouble with B because she wanted
to cook a dinner this eve, & I came home from the library
not hungry, having taken a sandwich & eaten it there, not
being sure that there would be a meal ready when I got home.
I finished reading the Leuchtenberg book on the 1920's. I particularly
enjoyed it since by now I know enough about the period to enable
me to understand much in a book like this which would otherwise
be dull or obscure.
I began my onerous job of marking final examinations & assigning
final grades for my students. As usual, I looked at the exams
in only the most perfunctory way. I base the course grade primarily
on past performance & on my general impression of the student.
Sunday, January 21 1962
It has been remarkably cold today & according to the news,
it snowed in San Francisco & many other unlikely places, though
not here.
B went to San Jose & I once again spent most of the day in
my library carel, but was again afflicted by the physical symptoms
of excitement, palpitation, & inability to concentrate, which
seem somehow to be associated with overeating or indigestion.
Since lunch I had eaten 7 brownies, 2 candy bars, an orange, &
an egg sandwich. My stomach is a major study problem. I seem always
to be either wanting to eat or suffering from the effects of eating.
Monday, January 22, 1962
1 a.m. I had asked Mr. Henry May, who is my graduate advisor &
was also one of the 3 examiners on the written exam which I failed,
if he would be willing to look at some practice answers I wrote
from time to time, & at least tell me whether or not he would
have passed me on them if I had written them in an actual exam.
He said he would, and about 10 days ago I gave him one, but he
had no time to look at it then. Today, however, when I just happened
to meet him near the History Dept. office, he said he had looked
at the question, & invited me to his office.
I thought he would want to discuss it with me, but discovered
instead that he had already typed out over a page of criticism,
in addition to making a number of remarks on the paper itself.
He simply handed this to me, saying that he didn't want to talk
this week (I'm not sure why). His criticism is severe of almost
every point I made in the answer & there is scarcely anything
that can be interpreted as signifying approval. But the most important
thing to me at present is the opening statement: "I'd give
this a bare pass." So at least I know I can write answers
which, at least in May's estimate, are good enough to pass.
I spent all my study time plowing through Person's American Minds,
a very dull dry intellectual history, but the first I have read.
B and I discussed the Myrna mystery, and came to the conclusion
that the most likely solution would concern gambling. Although
Myrna herself is not a big gambler, it seems quite possible that
Dick might be; and since Las Vegas is a great gambling center,
and she had formed some sort of emotional attachment to him, he
might easily have persuaded her to gamble in order, perhaps, to
establish a fund of capital which they felt they needed in order
to get married. This would account for the fast disappearance
of the money which my parents sent, and for Myrna's reticence
about the reasons for her need for more and more. Interestingly,
my parents, in their recent misery-laden letters, have not advanced
any theories of their own, except Myrna's need to keep up payments
on a new car, and the vague theory of a villainous Dick.
Tuesday, January 23, 1962
11:45 p.m. What a strange life B & I have been living - both
of us usually spending most of our day & until 10 or 11 at
night in the "stacks" part of the University library,
I in my doorless metal cubicle on the 5th level (called a carel),
B at an open desk on the 7th floor, where she seems to have many
friends. Only occasionally for brief periods do we see each other
during the day. I have been taking sandwiches & eating alone.
B's present pressure-period will end with her last exam tomorrow.
But mine of course will go on until April, & hopefully until
the oral exam in May. I spent all day again with Person's intellectual
history. This is a new field for me, but a very necessary one.
Wednesday, January 26, 1962
11:30 p.m. I was woken at 7:15 this morning by a slight earthquake.
Didn't go back to sleep, & consequently was able to have an
unusually early start to the day. B sleeping in her room, as she
has been doing quite frequently lately since she has been staying
up very late studying, was also woken by the tremor. She had her
last final exam this morning. She has received A's in 3 of her
courses this semester, which is a remarkably good record, though
she will feel glad to get a B in the 4th.
With finals & the semester virtually over, the library will
close at 5 for the next 1 ½ weeks, so I must try to get
there early. Today I spent mostly with O.W. Larkins' Art and Life
in America, but was disappointed to find the art not clearly enough
related to the life, and the whole thing too detailed & encyclopedic.
I am quite anxious these days for more news about Myrna.
Thursday, January 25, 1962
(Written Jan 26) In study accomplishments, this day was more satisfactory
than some. At least I managed to dispose of 3 books, Helper's
Impending Crisis of the South, G.F. Milton's Eve of Crisis, and
Larkins' Art and Life in America. I almost always seem to enjoy
reading original sources like Helper more than secondary works.
At the library I browsed in the Illustrated London News which
I am coming to the conclusion is the best news-picture magazine
in English. LIFE, which used to be good, has I think greatly deteriorated
& actually contains few pictures concerning the week's news.
Friday, January 26, 1962
This eve B & I went to a movie I had been looking forward
to for several weeks, but were quite disappointed in it. It was
a French film called "Breathless," and I had heard it
recommended by a critic as one of the 10 best films of 1961. In
many ways it reminded me of other supposedly outstanding films
we have seen: "La Dolce Vita" and "Hiroshima Mon
Amour," with its apparent emphasis on modern decadence an
insensibility. The jail-riot film which we saw with it I found
much more enjoyable.
Afterwards we went to visit the Carricos, & stayed up til
after 1:00. Art Speigel, the local representative of the Crossroads
Africa program telephoned Allen today as one of my references,
& Allen had to tell him why he thought I would make a good
group leader. From the way Allen described the phone-interview,
it sounded as if he had fully justified my confidence that he
would present me in the best possible light. At the present time,
however, I a far from enthusiastic about becoming involved in
this Africa program, since I want to be free to devote all my
energy to studying history.
Saturday, January 27, 1962
12:15 a.m. 2 letters from Hartley & Marge - one a chain letter
& one direct personal from Agen in France, where they are
still living. I had listed them as a reference for my Crossroads
Africa application, & they sent a copy of what they wrote
on the form. I fear they made me sound too good.
The major things on my mind and "in the air" at the
present time are (1) my Ph.D. project. I study almost all day
every day & don't have much difficulty studying lately, apart
from a sense of physical tension which seems to distract me after
my evening meal every day. We learned today that Irwin Wunderman
passed his Ph.D. exam at Stanford. I feel much more confident
about my chances on the second try than I did a month ago. I am
really doing my best, & am often pleased at how much I can
now understand; e.g. it is pleasant to read a magazine from say
1915, & understand most of the allusions. I know my written
exam will be in April, sometime. Beyond that, of course, my academic
future is uncertain, but I will have to gird myself for another
tense wait even after the exam, just to find out if I've passed.
And during that time I'll have to go on studying for my oral on
the assumption that I've passed the written, just as I did last
month.
(2) This Africa project, if I'm accepted, will make a big difference,
& I will suddenly be under pressure to start studying about
Africa, & having to face the challenge of acting as a group
leader in an extremely novel situation, after being buried, as
it seems, for several years in a university library - a very sudden
emergence & change of roles, & at present I really don't
feel up to it.; but by the time summer comes, if I am accepted,
& if I pass my exams, it will come perhaps as a pleasant reward
for my labors - at least a complete change of scene & company.
(3) B's career. Now that she is in the teaching internship program,
the big question is, at what school will she be teaching in the
fall? This is very important for us, since, whatever job she takes
will be understood officially as a 2-year commitment, and of course
this will greatly affect our future life together. I like the
idea of B working & making plenty of money, but I don't like
her being tied down, especially for 2 years. At present we are
nowhere near a decision as to where in the Bay Area she wants
to teach, although the preference is for someplace in this vicinity
(but not Berkeley.)
(4) The Myrna mystery, on which there have been no further developments
since January 19.
(5) My long-range future, about which I do little concrete thinking,
always concentrating on short-range goals. Of late, however, I
have begun to have a feeling of great insecurity, which is rather
unusual for me.
(6) My citizenship case - one of the reasons for my sense of insecurity,
for on it depends my teaching credential.
(7) My fellowship application, whose result I won't know until
April
If everything were to work out perfectly along present lines,
this is what would happen: We would shortly receive a letter from
Myrna explaining the whole mystery, & reassuring us about
her situation. Then I would receive a letter from the Immigration
& Naturalization Dept. inviting me at last to make my appearance
at a formal swearing-in ceremony & thus become a citizen.
I would then immediately take steps to renew my teaching credential
& secure a U.S. passport. I would then receive a letter telling
me I have been accepted for the Crossroads Africa program (ideally
they would reject me as a group leader but invite me on the strength
of my application to come along free as a participant, instead
of having to pay the regular $900.)
In April I would learn that I have been awarded a $2500 fellowship,
and that this is not conditional upon my passing any exam ( although
I don't think this unconditional kind of offer is likely if the
Awards Committee knows my present position). Then I would take
& pass my written exam, take & pass the oral a few weeks
later, go off to Africa, & return to take up my fellowship
& begin writing my dissertation. Meanwhile B will have secured
her first teaching-job close by, & we will enjoy a combined
income of 7 or 8 thousand dollars for the coming school year.
What a dream!
Sunday, January 28, 1962
11 p.m. An unexpected diversion this afternoon. There was an Antiques
show being held at the Berkeley Women's City Club, & B &
I decided to go & try to sell some of our large remaining
stock of antiques. We took a selection of our best small items,
& decided in advance that we would be willing to sacrifice
much of our profit for the sake of a large sale. The result was
that within quite a short time we were able to sell the entire
lot (which had originally cost a total of about $106) to one dealer
named Carmel Taylor for $145. As usual, the negotiating proved
to be a grueling emotional ordeal. But so pleased were we with
this success that we decided on a far grander venture. We decided
to try to sell all our remaining antiques at once at this Show.
The show was in its last day, & was to close at 5, so we had
to hurry home & quickly figure out how much all our stuff
had cost. It came to about $70, so we decided to ask $100. There
were 89 different items, mostly small pieces of jewelry, table-ware,
snuff-boxes. I went back alone this time (B had a date) &
showed the things to several dealers before I came back to Carmel
Taylor, who to my surprise showed interest, & although she
kept me waiting a long time before she made up her mind, she gave
me the $100 cash for the lot. This $245 was by far the most antique
money we had ever taken in one day, let alone from the same person.
As a business deal, it was not an outstanding success, but we
had had most of the things for a very long time, & it was
good to get rid of them & turn them into cash. My parents
of course will get most of the money, but we made about $31 profit
for ourselves, which isn't bad for a few hours' work. Included
in the lot were about 11 items which Hartley & Marge sent
us from England last April to sell for them on a 50-50 profit-splitting
basis. So far we hadn't sold any so I was very glad to be able
to write them this evening & send them their original $9.30
plus $1.70 profit.
The excitement of all this took a lot out of me, & I had time
to do little else today.
Monday, January 29, 1962.
(Written Jan 30) I am beginning to wonder whether my digestive
system may be out of order. Every day after almost every meal
I seem to suffer some kind of unpleasant physical sensation. If
this continues, I intend to ask a doctor about it.
This week, beginning Wednesday, and next, I must again, as last
September, serve a total of 18 hours as an advisor to undergraduate
students. In return for my services both semesters, I will be
relieved of one T.A. section (i.e. about 15 students) this coming
semester. Although I know I will get through the advising OK,
the task is still a distinctly unpleasant one for me. And I much
regret that there are so many things, both external and internal,
which seem to come between me & my studies: the advising job,
the T.A. job, inconvenient library hours & regulations, food
and stomach problems, distractions caused by concerns over B,
Myrna, the Africa project, citizenship. (In connection with the
latter, I had copies made today of my correspondence over the
past 10 months with the U.S. Immigration & Naturalization
Service - 2 letters from me inquiring when I would get my citizenship,
and 2 replies giving no information at all. Before long, I will
have to write to the State Dept. of Education asking for an extension
of my credential, & I intend to enclose these letters.
Tuesday, January 30, 1962
1:45 a.m. I am reading a very interesting book about class violence
in America by Louis Adamic, called Dynamite. It is extremely pro-labor,
but has such a lively style that, after all the dull books I've
been reading lately, it is a pleasure.
B has decided to go to San Jose for the remainder of the holiday,
& will probably be away about 5 days. Although I hope I will
have enough studying to do, & want badly enough to do it to
avoid being too lonely, I can't help regretting that, whenever
B has free time, she always chooses to spend it somewhere away
from me.
B has done very well on her final grades this semester: 3 A's
& 1B.
Wednesday, January 31, 1962
12:40 a.m. Once again, I am serving as an undergraduate adviser
at college today & for the next 2 days, 10-12 and 2-4:30,
and for a few hours next week. The job is much more dull than
difficult & there was little to do today.
I am becoming distressed at receiving no further word from my
parents on the Myrna situation since Jan. 19, & no reply from
Myrna herself to our letters.
B left for San Jose this eve, & won't be back till Sunday
eve, so I will have 4 days alone. But I take great comfort in
the fact that Allen & Myra now live in Berkeley, & I can
always seek their company should loneliness overwhelm me.
I did some research at the Law Library today, trying to find out
whether there is any regulation governing the time within which
an applicant for naturalization, having filed his petition, should
be notified of the decision. I couldn't find anything on this,
but the general impression I got was that a person petitioning
for citizenship is pretty much at the mercy of the authorities,
and that there are a great many counts on which my application
might be held up.
This evening I again (the third time) tried writing a timed practice
examination answer, this time on the historiography of Reconstruction,
but I was surprised how difficult I found it, in view of all the
books I have lately been reading on the subject. I still seem
unable to organize a coherent answer in a short time.
Thursday February 1 1962
10:45 p.m. For some reason, I feel quite tired this evening, &
plan to go to bed soon.
Once again, advising took up 4 ½ hours of the day, &
I spent another 1 ½ at the Law Library doing more research
into my naturalization problem. This time I came closer to what
I was looking for, & found at least 2 cases concerned with
aliens who tried to expedite the proceedings of the Immigration
& Naturalization Service. In the only case I had time to study
in detail, however, the man had been waiting 19 months before
he even took it to court, & then the judge allowed another
6 months delay because the Naturalization officials said they
still needed more time to complete their investigation. This kind
of information makes me far less hopeful about my citizenship
chances than I have been hitherto. Until now, I have hoped literally
every day to be called for my final hearing. I realize now that
I may yet be kept waiting many more months.
In consequence my life may seriously be affected in 2 ways:
My teaching credential will expire, & I doubt whether appeals
to the Department of Education on grounds that I have done my
best to become a citizen within the stated time, but the government
is still investigating me, will have any good effect. Secondly
my Africa project will be seriously jeopardized , even if I am
accepted as a group leader. For in making my application I stated
that I was an American Citizen, hoping that before the summer
I would be, & could have an American passport. But it now
appears that I will have to admit my lie (for passports are bound
to come up before we leave) & my only hope would be that the
Crossroads Africa people would not consider it serious that I
am not an American citizen.
The unpleasant part about both the teaching and the Africa situations,
however is the very fact that I am being given an unusually thorough
by the government before being admitted to citizenship is very
likely to make me a general object of suspicion.
I must admit that I didn't realize when I first applied for citizenship
nearly a year ago just how serious a business it was likely to
be for me. Yet it is hard to see how I could have acted any differently
from the way I did at the time. My fate, as far as this matter
is concerned, was largely determined before I ever left England.
Two basic principles which underlay my conduct, (1) that I wanted
to able to settle permanently in America and (2) that I was opposed
to military service, brought me automatically into conflict with
the authorities.
I realize now that there are any number of grounds on which I
could be denied citizenship, eg that I made a false declaration
(when applying for entry to the country, for permanent resident
status, & for citizenship) to the effect that I had never
had a nervous breakdown or been in a mental hospital; that I broke
the law by not registering for military service; that I went to
the Vienna Youth Festival (disapproved by the U.S. State Dept.)
They could alas if they chose turn the irregular nature of my
relationship with B against me, also my connection with the peace
movement & my earlier history as a conscientious objector
in England.
Nevertheless I remain quite hopeful that eventually I will be
admitted to citizenship. It's just that the process may be much
longer & involve much more struggle & anxiety than I anticipated.
If I had plenty of free time right now, there's nothing I'd enjoy
more than turning this matter into a big full-time project. I
do enjoy doing legal research on a matter which affects me personally
& directly, & I would like to see if I could conduct a
legal case by myself without having to hire a lawyer. But that
would probably involve much time, & I don't know how much
money.
The most important thing I found out in my research today was
that the appropriate legal step to take in my position is apparently
to make a motion in the district court to compel the court clerk
and the district director of the Immigration & Naturalization
service to place my naturalization petition on the court calendar
for final hearing. At present I have no idea how easy or how complicated
such a step might be. I don't even know exactly what is meant
by making a motion. But it would be fun finding out - the kind
of situation I really enjoy, where I feel I am battling against
the whole of society. If only I had the time, and if only the
case were not so urgent. For my teaching credential is due to
expire on March 27, & I doubt if I could accomplish much before
then.
Of course I would not be terribly disappointed to be deprived
of the pleasure of waging this great battle by receiving notice
within the next few weeks that my final hearing is going to go
through, & I am after all going to be admitted to the sacred
ranks of citizenship! But I no longer expect this. The big change
my research has effected in my thinking is to make me feel that
the next move is now up to me.
I have been alone all this evening, but haven't felt lonely or
depressed on this first of 4 days without B.
Friday, February 2, 1962
1:20 a.m. Today I read the whole of Edward Bellamy's famous utopian
novel Looking Backward which I have been wanting to read for years.
What impresses me about it is how much of it has become actual
since it was written in the 1880's.
As far as I know, this is going to be my last (of 4) semester
as a teaching assistant. The course is 17B, U.S. History since
the Civil War, & the lecturer this time is Mr. May, who is
also my advisor & was one of the 3 examiners on the written
exam which I failed. The T.A. group is the same as last semester,
with Pete Shattuck again the Head T.A. There are 7 of us, &
today we had our first meeting with Mr. May. Unlike previous lecturers
whose T.A. I have been (Ross, Drinnon, & Sellers) May apparently
intends to call us by our last names. His general approach to
the course, however, as far as reading, grades & assignments
are concerned seems pretty much that of the others. It is always
apparent that the job of lecturing in a course like this is not
one that they relish. For me the job is still very largely a means
to an end.
I walked to Allen & Myra's & back this evening, and unusually
long walk for me though it took only 15 minutes each way walking
fast. But there were a number of other visitors there, & I
became bored with incessant talk about the Peace Movement.
Saturday, February 3, 1962
1:30 a.m. B's absence, of which this was the 3rd day, makes possible
a few advantageous changes in my manner of life. I don't have
to wash any dishes, & have so far not done any except when
absolutely necessary. Last night I took an unusually long walk,
& this evening an unusually long bicycle ride, both of which
would have been virtually impossible if I were going to the same
places with B. I decided this evening to go to a movie show at
the Parkway Theater at 18th & Park Ave in Oakland. We always
drive when we go there, but I now found that my car brake wasn't
working, & so decided to go by bike - the longest cycle trip
I have made in years, though it actually took only about 40-45
minutes each way. I really enjoyed the ride. The fact remains,
however, that the main reason why I went to the movie at all was
to counteract my fear of loneliness.
The film I saw was fortunately a very good one, called "The
Mark," about a man once jailed for kidnap of a little girl
with intent to assault her (though he broke down before actually
committing the assault) who tries to establish a new life after
being released on parole. His relationship with his psychiatrist
forms a large part of the film, & I found much with which
I could identify, even more so perhaps because it took place in
England.
I spent the afternoon in the library getting my card-filing system
a little more organized, a job which is really never-ending, since
there's no limit to how elaborate I could make it. My present
principle is simply to have a card on file for every important
book relevant to my fields which I remember well enough to be
able to say something about it.
I started reading Ignatius Donnelly's fantastic novel called Caesar's
Column, published in the 1880's & about the world of 1988.
I find it very interesting to read old predictions, noticing their
ironies, & sometimes their remarkable accuracies, e.g. Bellamy's
remarkable prediction of radio broadcasting.
Sunday, February 4, 1962
11:30 p.m. Alone for the 4th day, until I came home from the library
to find B here half an hour ago. I began to become a little moody
& depressed, but not much so.
I am currently reading books connected with labor & reform
in the late 19th Century, & today began Terence V. Powderley's
autobiography.
Monday, February 5, 1962
10:40 p.m. For some reason - probably fatigue, not having had
enough sleep last night, I feel I made a mess of my first T.A.
section meeting of the new semester.
At last a letter from my mother, the first since Jan. 19, with
more information on Myrna. Apparently my parents wrote to Ethel
Ewens, the middle-aged retire school-teacher, who was probably
Myrna's closest friend in Los Angeles, and Ethel had said she
was willing to go to Las Vegas & try to find Myrna - but then
Myrna showed up in L.A. with Dick, & went to Ethel to pick
up some things she had left with her. My mother's letter isn't
very clear about what Ethel's letter to London said, but apparently
Myrna confided to Ethel that Dick had been exploiting her, that
he had gambled away all the money she had borrowed from her parents
& me (just as we thought), that Dick is a married man, &
his divorce isn't yet final, that Myrna has been living with him,
and that he actually stole some money from her wallet. Despite
all this, however, Myrna refused to leave him, & the story
is now that they are going to Yuma to get married.
This comes to my parents as the denoument, & they are now
convinced that Dick is a "rotter." It does indeed look
that way, & I feel very sorry for my parents, but not for
Myrna. She can hardly be said to be ruining her life, since she
has been living a ruined life for years, & some catastrophe
like this was only to be expected sooner or later.
At least I am glad that I need no longer feel any responsibility
to my parents to try to find Myrna & bring her "to her
senses." If Ethel failed, I surely could do no better. And
I'm not really convinced yet that all this isn't for the best,
at least as far as Myrna is concerned.
Tuesday, February 6, 1962
11 p.m. I learned yesterday that the date of my written exam will
be April 26 or 27. This is about 3 weeks later than I expected,
but I am not particularly glad of the extra time. I feel remarkably
fatalistic about the exam at this stage, doubting that anything
I do between now & then will alter the result.
6 ½ hours of my time today (an unusual amount) were taken
up with official duties - first 2 hours conducting T.A. sections,
in which fortunately I was in better condition than yesterday's;
then 2 hours on duty at the T.A. office, to help students change
their class times; then 2 ½ hours in the advising office,
where I acted as receptionist most of the time, & thus did
little but give people their files.
At the library I finished with T.V.Powderley's autobiography,
The Path I Trod, and with John Hope Frankin's history of the negroes,
From Slavery to Freedom.
Wednesday, February 7, 1962
11:30 p.m. I still seem to be having digestive trouble. All I
had for supper in my library carel was one sandwich of bologna,
cheese, lettuce, & mayonnaise, and one small chocolate-fudge
candy bar. Yet about 2 hours later (not immediately) I began to
feel that the food had not been digested. Eventually I became
so uncomfortable that I had to give up trying to study (I'm now
at last reading Lincoln Steffens' Autobiography, which I've been
meaning to read for years) & came home.
This is the 8th anniversary of the date which still seems to cut
a remarkably clean line through my life.
For a time today I felt unusually optimistic for no apparent reason,
and the lines of one of my favorite inspirational poems had real
meaning for me:
Say not the struggle naught availeth, the labor and the wounds
are vain,
The enemy faints not nor faileth, and as things have been they
remain;
If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars . . . . etc. (I know it
all.)
Thursday, February 8, 1962
6 p.m. Today I decided to try to make some headway in my attempt
to get naturalized, and the result has been to leave me at this
point feeling very sad about the whole business. I intended to
go first to the Alameda Legal Aid Society in Oakland, where I
had learned that I could get free advice, then to the Immigration
office in San Francisco to talk to a Mr.Schave whom the secretary
to the college adviser to foreign students had suggested might
be able to help me, and finally to the Clerk of the Federal District
Court, to find out what I could do to bring my case into court.
As things turned out, however, I went only to the Legal Aid Society,
where the attorney Mr. Rothwell saw me twice this afternoon for
a total of about 1 ½ hours. This proved to be an experience
more unpleasant than otherwise, especially the second session,
and the general effect was to deal one more blow to my self-esteem.
Everybody these days makes me feel like dirt.
At first things seemed to go very well. I explained my problem
to Mr. Rothwell, emphasizing my anxiety about my teaching credential;
and he immediately picked up the telephone and called directly
to the Commissioner of Immigration in San Francisco. The Commissioner
said he would look into my case and call back. Rothwell asked
me to return or telephone later today, but he seemed in no hurry
to dismiss me. He talked much about the difficulty of dealing
with an administrative agency like the Immigration Department.
I told him I thought the delay might be because of my participation
in the 1959 Vienna Youth Festival, and he foresaw that I might
indeed have a difficult time if that were the case.
During the next 2 hours I visited for the first time the Oakland
Snow Natural History Museum and the Oakland Public Library. Then
at 4 p.m. I returned to Rothwell who said the Immigration office
had told him there would probably still be a delay of many months
on my case, but still would not give any reason. Rothwell's advice
to me was not to take the case to court, but to wait patiently,
even if it meant losing my credential. The reason for this counsel
was that if I force the issue, the likely result is that the Immigration
Office will simply deny me citizenship, whereas if I wait &
let them take their time, there is always the chance that they
will eventually clear & approve me.
But what was unpleasant about this session was the fact that
Rothwell made me discuss with him things I didn't want to discuss
in a way that I didn't want to discuss them. My primary purpose
in seeing him was simply to find out how I could expedite the
naturalization proceedings. But he (as I feared might happen)
wanted to go behind the superficial circumstances and find out
what might be the reason for the delay, i.e. what aspects of my
past might be held against me in this regard. I didn't want to
tell him the whole story of my life, but I did eventually make
myself tell him of my not having registered for the army for 5
years, of my connection with the Peace campaign, and my living
unmarried with Barbara. But I didn't tell him of my history of
mental illness.
From what I did tell him, he made it plain that the authorities,
if they wished, could not only deny me citizenship, but could
also deport me as an undesirable alien. He began to "cross-examine"
me in detail concerning my participation in the Vienna Youth Festival
and my trip to Russia, and made me feel extremely uncomfortable.
My replies, as he pointed out, were vague, contradictory, and
would tend in court to throw doubt on my credibility. Towards
the end of my interview, he began to argue the question of pacifism
with me, for no apparent reason, saying that he himself had always
felt quite strongly attached to the military, and to the concept
of power politics. By that time, I was very ill at ease, &
could put up little in the way of an argument. I left feeling
that I had somehow been trampled all over. But he had given me
a good deal of his time, and his actual advice is I think valuable.
So the only thing I can now do is appeal to the State Department
of Education to renew my credential, even though I haven't yet,
as they stipulated, become naturalized. If they deny this request,
I will be much less secure economically than I have been, but
my situation will still be far from desperate.
Will my life ever really get straightened out? This citizenship
business is upsetting what little sense of stability I once enjoyed.
Friday, February 9, 1962
12:30 a.m. Rain. Larry here this eve as overnight guest. I am
beginning to have moments of pride in my intellectual accomplishments.
Sometimes I feel I really do by now know quite a lot about American
History, and I have a real desire to learn more. I always have
in mind a list of books which I still want to read.
Saturday, February 10, 1962
(Written Feb 11) Larry wanted me to go with him on his trip to
a place near Santa Cruz for a teaching job interview, but I decided
to stay here & continue my normal routine. I finished reading
Lincoln Steffens' Autobiography, which was something of a disappointment.
There was not enough personal detail, & his journalistic adventures
seem always to be described so as to place himself in the best
possible light. But the book is valuable in showing how an American
could lose faith in Democracy through knowing it too well.
Since my citizenship campaign has been temporarily called off
(see Feb. 8) I must now try to get my teaching credential extended
by special permission. I took the first step today by writing
simply for a renewal application form.
Sunday February 11 1962
11:45 p.m. The most remarkable thing about me lately is that I
have had little or no difficulty studying, even though I don't
make the rapid headway I would like to make. I accept my role
as a student, and do not fight it mentally. I don't look for excuses
to avoid studying, but on the other hand, I am not killing myself
at it. In general these days I am simply trying to read or become
reasonably familiar with as many "important" books relevant
to my field as possible. I am concentrating on my immediate goal,
the written exam, in which my field is the whole of U.S. History
since 1783, and am trying not to worry too much about the oral
exam fields. If I get through the written, it will not be terribly
disappointing for me to fail the oral on my first attempt, &
have to take it again in December.
Monday, February 12, 1962
11:15 p.m. Lincoln's birthday, a public holiday, but no holiday
for me, though I spent part of this evening making a Valentine
for B.
I had an appointment to see my advisor Mr. May this afternoon,
& he went over with me some practice exam answers I had written.
Although he said he would pass them & thought I would pass
the exam, his general attitude was not such as to encourage me,
& I left him after 1 ½ hours feeling quite depressed.
Once again I seemed unable to communicate with him. When I tried
being honest, it only seemed to turn him against me. E.g., when
I confessed I had found one particular book difficult & dull,
& so had only read the conclusion, he said that with that
kind of attitude I would never make a historian. What would he
say, I wonder, if I were to tell him that I have no desire or
intention of becoming a historian, that I want to pass the exams
& get the degree simply for the sake of having a goal to achieve?
But of course I could not say that to him. As it is, I seem to
have said too much.
The only person in the University with whom at present I think
it possible that I might really communicate is Peter Shattuck,
my Head T.A. But I am afraid of being rejected by him if I should
try to open up to him.
(Continuing Feb. 13) Another letter from my parents on the Myrna
situation. Myrna made yet another collect telephone call to them,
this time from Los Angeles, & once again they accepted it,
although they had resolved not to accept any more. The significant
thing seems to have been that this was the first call in which
Myrna did not ask for money. Instead she was apparently trying
to justify her relationship with Dick.
Tuesday, February 13, 1962
11:20 p.m. My interview with Mr. May yesterday seems to have had
an unsettling effect upon me. I thought about it often today,
& each time I felt angry. Really my life as a student at this
university is extremely unsatisfactory.
I spent some hours yesterday & today making a Valentine card
for B. I used a library call-card, filling in all the spaces with
"appropriate" remarks.
Wednesday, February 14, 1962
11 p.m. An important new development: It was announced today that
the History Department has changed its policy with regard to the
number of years a student may be employed as a Teaching Assistant.
Hitherto it has been 2, and, this being my second year, I have
been looking forward with mixed feelings to the end of this semester,
when I would find myself once again without a regular job. Now
for some reason it has been changed to 3 years, so I am eligible
for another year, although the re-hiring is not automatic, &
I must apply again. But in any case everything still depends on
whether or not I pass my written exam in April, for if I don't,
I will have to leave the University altogether.
It has also occurred to me, incidentally, that if I don't pass
the exam, & if I don't manage to get my teaching credential
extended, I will be virtually without a profession a few months
from now.
B & I exchanged Valentine cards today, each of an original
home-made variety. For mine, see yesterday. Hers is a clever "Love
Coupon" offering to the bearer "one heart full of love
and devotion" plus "plenty of hugs and kisses."
Tuesday, February 15 1962
12 midnight. I was in the library from 11 a.m. to 10 p.m, but
was mildly depressed much of the time, brooding on the emptiness
of my life, the grim outlook if I fail my exam, the not-much-less
grimmer one if I pass. My reading mainly concerned the trade union
movement & the stock market crash of 1929.
It seems to have been raining almost steadily for days, but the
weather has little effect these days upon my life.
I wish I could take myself in hand. I have lost the sense of controlling
my own destiny, which was so important to me. My entire fate seems
to be in other people's hands - the college examiners, the fellowship
committee, the Crossroads Africa people, the Immigration authorities.
Friday, February 16, 1962
11:45 p.m. Once again in the library for most of the day, &
by 9 p.m. my mind was hardly functioning. At least I finished
my books on American Labor, & on the 1929 crash. But I am
continually oppressed by exam worries.
Larry is with us again this eve. He still doesn't know if his
wife is pregnant.
Saturday, February17, 1962
11:20 p.m. My mental condition is undergoing one of its periodic
states of deterioration, probably the result of over-study, which
I first began to feel last night. I was unable (& therefore
I suppose unwilling) to study at all today, though I sat in the
library for several hours this afternoon. I feel generally moody
& unhappy, & as usual can only wait & hope for the
condition to pass.
I went with B to a college musical review this evening. The acting
talent was very good, but I feel sure I could write a better script
than they had. (I remember feeling the same last year at this
same annual event.)
Sunday, February 18, 1962
10:15 p.m. Another day of moodiness, with little studying done.
I went on a rather unusual excursion with Allen, hiking on Mount
Diablo. It was unusual because it was raining nearly all the time,
and we wore rubber "rain-suits" which Allen had bought.
But although we were protected & had some good views, it still
wasn't really much fun. Allen became tired easily. And strangely
I did not find it easy to converse, even with him. But my general
mood would probably have spoiled things no matter what I was doing.
Monday, February 19, 1962
10:55 p.m. I was able to resume studying today, & also conducted
quite a successful T.A. section meeting (i.e. one in which I was
in good form, felt I was keeping them interested, & got good
class participation in discussion). But this evening for some
reason I felt unusually tired.
Thinking back over my time with Allen yesterday, I regret that
we seem to have less in common than formerly. Now that he has
a child & is more or less permanently established in his "profession"
of Peace Movement Organizer, his interests seem more limited.
He is very interested, & well-informed, in world affairs,
but in little else, it seems.
Tuesday, February 20 1962
4:35 p.. I have been feeling unusually restless today, feeling
the need for a change. Once again, it is the old dilemma of wanting
a change yet at the same time not wanting it, or at least not
being able to bring it about. I stayed home this afternoon, instead
of going to the library as usual. I heard on the radio the on-the-spot
reporting of the orbital flight of John Glenn, America's biggest
space achievement so far; and perhaps this has contributed to
my sense of restlessness. Great events are taking place in the
world, and meanwhile what am I doing?
The great study-project in which I am now engaged is wholly voluntary,
yet most of the time I detest it. I am so deeply involved in it
that I fear this in itself is an obstacle to my success in it.
Continually I am debating with myself the question of how important
it is to have a rest, a change of scene, relaxation & physical
exercise. Perhaps this problem tends to solve itself. When I over-study,
then I lose the power to concentrate. When I need exercise, I
generally obtain it somehow. But surely there ought to be a better
way of going about it.
All my hopes & fears are concentrated now upon one examination.
I can't enjoy what I read because I'm continually worrying about
how much or how little good it is going to do me as exam preparation,
and of course that is something I can never know. What I do know
is that probably the most important thing is a good healthy balanced
state of mind, and that is what I know I do not have.'
As I believe I listed them in here once before, my basic worries
still concern (1) reading the right things (2) remembering what
I read (3) being able to express myself properly. It is almost
ridiculous how little confidence I have come to have in my ability
to express myself.
Because of all these worries, the task before me is grotesquely
magnified in my mind. It has become the purpose of my existence;
and because of this attitude, it is very difficult for me to relax,
even when I really want to. For, apart from this task, there is
very little else for me to do which seems to have any meaning.
Only eating (including eating my own skin-pickings) seems to offer
any release - and the time I spend with B.
I am my own victim; I have deliberately contrived for myself a
situation in which life is simplified down to a single task. And
it is a task which I badly want to accomplish. But still satisfaction
escapes me. I'm doing just what I want to do, yet it's not at
all what I want to do.
Can there be any other conclusion than that I am mentally ill?
But that doesn't help much either. My experience with psychiatrist
last year leaves me in doubt as to whether that kind of recourse
can do me any good. Towards him in particular I feel an anger
and dislike which approach hatred. His non-directive technique
seems utterly futile to me.
All I can do for relief at present is look forward to the time
when this exam pressure will be over. If I fail the written exam,
it will be over sometime in May when I know the result. That situation
will require a tremendous re-adjustment, for I have at present
no idea of what I will do if my long long academic career comes
to so abrupt and unsuccessful a conclusion. If I pass the written,
the agony will continue, and at this point I strongly doubt whether
I could pass the oral exam on the first attempt in May or June,
which means December must be the final deciding date. By then
I should be able to pass, and with the exam ordeal behind me (the
3 years would be comparable to the 3 years I spent worrying about
exams at London University) my life could then become comparatively
pleasant. I would still have a project-the thesis - but the pressure
would at last be taken off, & some sort of economic security
should be available.
Always I am hoping for something better in the future. If only
I knew how really to enjoy the present!
10:35 p.m. This evening I went by myself to see 2 films about
Australia. I was just in the mood for escape & these films
provided a good one. I was very interested in the fictional &
factual depiction of life in the Australian interior, having recently
read a book about Australian history. The films were "The
Sundowners," about a family of sheep-drovers, and "Back
of Beyond," about a 300 mile postal route connecting the
lonely cattle stations deep in the desert of central Australia.
Wednesday, Feb. 21, 1962
11 p.m. Another big dramatic development in the Myrna story. A
letter arrived today from my mother - from Los Angeles! (She had
flown there by jet plane, cost 270 pounds) on Sunday after receiving
a telephone call from Marsh. Marsh said Myrna had left Dick &
come to him. She was apparently in a very bad state, & he
had taken her to his doctor, who said her mother should be with
her. But the only concrete detail the letter gives about Myrna's
condition is that "she gets a nervous spasm that affects
all her throat muscles." For the very first time my mother
is now willing to admit that "definitely M will need some
psychiatric treatment."
So now it appears that Myrna is in the midst of the nervous breakdown
that I have been predicting for her ever since my own 8 years
ago, and it is hardly surprising that hers, like mine, is obviously
closely connected with sexual problems. The tragedy is that with
her it has all been so very long delayed. Even when it happened
to me, at 20, it was long overdue. But she is now nearly 26. B
& I are both very interested & curious to observe the
situation first-hand, but are tied here by school responsibilities.
We could go down to L.A. for a few days, but the situation is
too uncertain at this point, & it's doubtful whether we could
do much good. Probably Myrna ought now to be hospitalized, but
that would be very expensive here. The only practical thing would
be to get her back to England where hospitalization is free. But
unless she has changed altogether, she'll be very unwilling to
do this.
We sent a reply at once, & as usual are anxiously waiting
for more information. Finances now are a major consideration.
It seems as if I will never again be able to look to my parents
as a financial resource to fall back on if necessary.
As soon as I got the letter at about 12:30 when I came home for
lunch, I telephoned B where she works at the YWCA, & arranged
to meet her & discuss the situation. We wrote the reply together,
sitting pleasantly on a sunny campus lawn.
Thursday, February 22, 1962
10:40 p.m. B & I took time out this afternoon to attend a
"panel discussion" on the subject of censorship. Mark
Shorer, head of the English Department, whose English Literature
course B is taking this semester, was one of the 3 participants,
but the big attraction was Mort Sahl, one of the country's most
famous comedians. The affair was for me, however, quite disappointing.
The moderator did a poor job, and rather than discussing the basic
problem(s) of censorship, the panelists merely talked about some
recent cases of censorship which have been in the news, e.g. the
controversial publication of Henry Miller's "Tropic of Cancer."
Friday, February 23, 1962
10:45 p.m I have felt quite despondent for much of today, but
am cheered a little, though B is out at a party, to return home
to find 6 new records which have arrived under my revived false-name
coupon scheme.
But no further word of the situation in L.A.
At the library I spent some time browsing in books about the Second
World War, & became absorbed in one by a German about the
agonies of the German army at Stalingrad. It's strange how I am
attracted to tales of violence & suffering, as well as sex.
But I am overwhelmed with a sense of the emptiness of my life.
Rather, it is so full of one single thing that I am deprived of
a sense of balance. Today I made a real effort to do other things,
& in fact the day was quite varied in its way. I spent the
morning shopping, writing letters, clearing up, & then at
noon went to a very good lecture by Henry May on Communism and
America. Then I returned home for lunch, later attended a T.A.
meeting, & finally wound up in the library about 3:45, staying
there till 10:00. Nevertheless I accomplished little, and felt
generally fed up with my studies. What is the remedy? Tomorrow
I'll try to size up my academic situation & lay plans for
the critical next 2 months.
On the whole, I can't help the feeling that this is a particularly
unpleasant period in my life. In some ways perhaps it's not my
fault, but in other ways it must be. Always I seem to be "too
busy living to live." Always I am looking to a brighter future
while not enjoying the present. Yet the present could be very
enjoyable. I still need to develop techniques of living. And so
much of my problem is people. The contrast between B's life &
mine is strange & instructive. Her life is full of activity
& people, yet she too claims to be unhappy.
Saturday, February 24, 1962
12 midnight. I spent an unusual amount of time with B today, practically
all day, in fact, apart from the afternoon hours from about 12:30
to 5 when we were both studying in the library. We played records,
discussed problems, laughed & sang. This evening we had our
first regular family meeting since early January. This side of
my life has of late been much too neglected, & we both suffer
from it. Today it was sheer pleasure just to sit & talk.
Sunday, February 25, 1962
11:50 p.m. I went for a 2-hour walk towards the hills, & felt
a remarkable sense of mental release. My mind is full of submerged
thoughts which ordinarily find no expression, not even in here,
for I'm generally in too much of a hurry.
B fed me well today, & we went to the library & returned
together. My T.A. job is still a bane of my existence. Even though
I have to "teach" only 3 hours a week, the anticipation
makes it very onerous. Usually I leave the planning until Sunday,
& then endure agonies trying to plan a discussion. But everything
seems really to depend on the mood or condition I happen to be
in at the time the class meets.
I have begun my second reading of a book I first read about 8
years ago, Benjamin Thomas' biography of Lincoln. It's surprising
how little I remember, yet as I read, it seemed familiar.
Monday, February 26, 1962
(Written Feb. 27) At last further word from my mother in L.A.
about Myrna (see Feb.21). And still the situation gets worse &
worse. Myrna is pregnant! So, instead of trying to part M &
Dick, my mother's object became to get them married as soon as
possible. Several days ago, it seems, she actually took an apartment
for them in L.A. and stayed there with them. & after getting
some counseling at the Institute of Family Relations, they were
to be married the next day, as soon as Dick's divorce from his
2nd wife became finalized. He was expecting the divorce papers
that very day, but they didn't arrive; & I have the feeling
that at this point my mother's spirit completely broke & she
only wanted to get away as fast as she could. She left Myrna &
Dick, says she is washing her hands of them, and is flying to
Toronto Thursday on the way back to England.
But she still wants to see us, so we have arranged by telephone
to meet her in Fresno for the afternoon on Wednesday. The whole
situation has now become so tragic that it really upsets me. The
worst part is not what has happened to Myrna (according to my
mother do seem to be in love & Dick really wants to marry
her) but the tragic crumbling of all my parents' illusions.
Tuesday, February 27, 1962
(Written Feb. 28) This eve I attended a lecture on Jefferson by
Dumas Malone, his foremost biographer - didn't get much out of
it, but afterwards went to the " Bear's Lair" with Roger
& Nancy Sharpe & Dick Ellis & sat talking for about
an hour, an unusual experience for me these days, especially in
that, although shy & awkward at first, I soon warmed up &
had plenty to say, especially when the topic turned to race relations.
Ellis insisted negro women were ugly by absolute standards.
Wednesday, February 28, 1962
(Written March 1) Today B & I both took the day off from school
(this was more of a sacrifice for B than for me) in order to drive
down to Fresno, where we had arranged to meet my mother, in order
that we might be able to spend a few hours together, before she
flies off to Toronto on her way back to England, as she has decided
to do tomorrow. She came up by Greyhound bus & we met her
at 1 p.m & were with her, talking all the time, at first in
a park & then in a restaurant, until she took the bus back
at 6 p.m. And most of that time was of course spent talking about
Myrna.
The whole situation seems now to have become highly tragic, and
the central figure is not Myrna but my mother, who is now to me
a truly pathetic creature - old & ugly and terribly confused
in her mind. She talked on & on, but it is still hard to know
what to make of it all. On the one hand, my Mother still feels
a strong desire to help her daughter; but on the other hand her
daughter doesn't want any help, except in the form of money, and
apparently treated her mother very badly.
The most important fact in the situation now is that Myrna is
definitely pregnant. Yet from what my mother told us today, she
does not seem to be as completely changed as I thought. Her general
attitude seems to be one of not caring, and of unawareness. Myrna
simply can't believe she is pregnant. Also, it seems she is definitely
in love with Dick; but my mother has no explanation to offer for
the fact that she has already been on the point of leaving him
once, & another time actually did leave him. The whole affair
has been going on now for 3 months, & the only definite things
about Myrna are that she is pregnant, that she is somewhat hostile
towards her mother, that she is emotionally involved with Dick
& apparently very easily influenced by him.
Dick emerges from my mother's account as a person with much personal
charm and persuasiveness, but highly irresponsible and unstable,
with no sense of financial responsibility & very little of
social morality. He seems to have thought nothing of persuading
Myrna to get as much money out of her family as she could, by
any means possible, which he then proceeded to gamble away in
Las Vegas, where they lived (as Mr. & Mrs. Moore) without
paying any rent. And Myrna in turn seems to think nothing of having
done such things. It all reminds me of the amoral "existential"
kind of heroes we have been seeing lately in many recent films
(e.g. "Breathless," & "La Dolce Vita"
and novels, e.g. Camus' "The Stranger.")
It is therefore difficult to know how seriously to take the protestations
my mother says Dick keeps making of his love for Myrna, his opposition
to the idea of an abortion, his intention to marry Myrna as soon
as his divorce papers come through (they have it seems somewhat
mysteriously become lost in the mail) and his desire to support
her after they are married. Another mystery about Dick is where
his parents stand in this whole affair. My mother seems unwilling
to try to find out more about this, perhaps because she is afraid
of being hurt by hearing Dick's parents make disparaging remarks
about Myrna's character. This is bitterly ironical, since only
3 years ago it was my parents who were in somewhat the same position
as Dick's are now, and Barbara's situation corresponded to Myrna's,
with the vital difference that B & I have been able to avoid
the complication of pregnancy.
In a way, it is a good thing that my parents had already had that
experience, since that probably makes them somewhat more tolerant
in the present situation. Certainly it was surprising to me how
readily & seriously my mother considered the possibility of
abortion. When she arrived in Los Angeles, Myrna was staying with
Marsh, & apparently my mother did try to induce an abortion,
making Myrna take hot baths & (I think) some pills Mickey
Bush had given her, but it seems without avail.
Marsh had taken a deeply personal interest in Myrna, & did
everything he could to help her, but finally, after letting her
& my mother stay in his apartment several days while he stayed
elsewhere, he became disgusted with the situation & ordered
Myrna out & said he never wanted to see her or Dick again.
My mother then made it her object to get Myrna & Dick married
& settled. She took an apartment for them, paid a month's
rent, & the 3 of them stayed there one night. But my mother
must have realized that she herself was coming close to breaking
down under the strain of the situation, & left them the next
day. Myrna wouldn't even kiss her goodbye.
My mother is now in a terrible state of mind because she feels
she is running away, but that it is the only thing she can do,
& that it is probably best for Myrna. She wants to break off
contact altogether, & spoke of changing her will so that nothing
will go directly to Myrna. While talking to us, she kept herself
pretty well under control, but began to cry whenever the question
arose as to whether she was doing the right thing by "running
away" like this. Barbara tried to assure her she was, but
I could not be so certain. My attitude was that there should no
longer be any question of giving any further financial aid, but
that the door of communication should not be altogether closed.
The trouble is however that while any communication exists at
all, my mother will probably be unable to resist the emotional
impulse to give further material aid. My mother was pathetically
trying to console herself with the thought that if Dick does abandon
Myrna there are always plenty of organizations which can help
her.
How my father is reacting to all this I have no clear picture.
My mother says she blames him for not agreeing to come & live
permanently in California. If they had both been here, the story
goes, all this would never have happened.
I gave my mother $10 to cover her bus fare, saying it was a birthday
present, & she accepted. This is highly significant, since
I think it is the first time I have ever given money to my parents.
The flow is beginning to reverse itself. B & I were both dressed
up (I wore my good suit) & impressed my mother with how good
we looked. After seeing her off, we began the long drive home,
stopping for a good reasonably priced restaurant dinner, &
singing & talking all the way home, feeling closer to each
other & more fortunate in our relationship by contrast with
this Myrna tragic-comedy. Almost in Berkeley, we ran out of gas,
but I was able to get the car off the freeway, & luckily we
found a gas station open without walking too far.
Thursday, March 1, 1962]
After yesterday's very strange experience, another one today:
a tour of the big California state prison at San Quentin, for
which I had signed up at the Y.M.C.A. several days ago. Apart
from my one memorable night in the Los Angeles Lincoln Heights
Jail, where I went rather than pay an $11 fine for a minor traffic
violation, I had never been inside a prison before.
Only men visitors are allowed during the daytime while most of
the prisoners are out of their cells, & it is interesting
how many precautions are taken to be sure the presence of the
visitors won't aid the prisoners in any way, e.g. signing in &
out, passing through some kind of x-ray machine which detects
the presence of metal, getting your hand stamped to identify you
as a visitor when you come out. We were instructed not to talk
to the prisoners, or give them anything.
Surprisingly, the first part of the prison we were taken to see
by the 2 guards, one young & one old, who acted as guides
(I was surprised how old some of the guards looked) was the gas
chamber, where I think several hundred victims of capital punishment
have been executed. There was little to see - a smallish observation
room adjoining an enclosed green chamber provided with 2 large
windows & containing 2 chairs. It was very hard to believe
that these facilities had been used over & over again for
that horrible purpose, although our guides seemed to enjoy talking
about the calm way most condemned prisoners meet their deaths,
how they wave to people they recognize through the windows, etc.
Moving on now into the main part of the prison, we saw part of
a cell block. The cells were quite small, but because the prison
has more prisoners than it was built for, each cell houses 2 men,
although intended for 1.
Other things that impressed me on the tour were: the excellent
working facilities, e.g. the prison contains an entire cotton
spinning & weaving mill; but at the same time the fact that
most of the prisoners we saw in these working places were not
working but sitting or standing about idly. The guard I asked
about this said it was quite normal, since the prisoners had little
incentive to work. The kitchen & main dining hall presented
a very pleasing appearance & the menu had much variety, though
unfortunately we didn't get a chance to sample the fare. The prisoners
are quite well-dressed - their clothing looks clean & warm
& comfortable. It impressed but didn't surprise me what a
large proportion of the prisoners were either negroes or Mexicans.
There is a great variety in the buildings we saw, some very modern,
others old & decrepit looking. In general the tour confirmed
the picture I already had, rather than radically altered it.
Tuesday, March 2 1962
(Written March 3) For the 3rd day in a row, my bookish activities
took a rest while I found myself busy doing other things. The
most important thing was a letter to the California State Department
of Education. My teaching credential bears on it the stipulation
that it will cease to be valid on March 27 1962, unless before
then I submit proof of having become a U.S. citizen. Since there
seems now no hope of my being naturalized by that date, all I
can do to avoid losing the right to teach in California public
schools is to explain the situation to the authorities, &
ask for an extension of the time-limit. That is what I did in
today's letter. My principal argument was that the March 27 1962
deadline had presumably been set on the assumption that it would
give me plenty of time to become a citizen if I intended to do
so. But my case is unusual, in that there has been a very long
delay, over which I have "absolutely no control." Could
not special allowance therefore be made, and an extension of at
least a year granted me? I enclosed photographic copies I had
had made (cheaply at college) of letters I had written to &
received from the Immigration & Naturalization service to
show that I had done everything in my power to get naturalized
but could obtain no satisfaction from the authorities. After requesting
an extension, I added that, if this were not possible, I would
like to know what would be involved in applying for a new credential
after I do finally get my citizenship.
In sending this letter, I did a strange & perhaps a foolish
thing which shows how much importance I attach to the matter at
stake. I addressed the letter to "Mrs. Irma Brownstone, Credentials
technician," who had signed the letter I received 2 days
ago explaining my official situation. Since there were important
enclosures, & since I wanted to be sure the letter was received,
I took it to the Post Office to register it. Postage alone cost
8 cents, registration cost 50 cents, and a card to notify me of
the receipt of the letter was an extra 10 cents. But then, having
decided to spend that much, I learned that this would only guarantee
delivery at the Credentials Office, not necessarily to Mrs. Brownstone.
I felt I wanted to be sure that she personally received it and
signed for it. I asked if this would be possible, & learned
there was such a service, which would guarantee delivery to the
addressee only, & this would cost an additional 60 cents.
I decided to do it, & so spent a total of $1.28 just to send
this letter from here to Sacramento.
Thinking it over immediately afterwards, I thought the "addressee
only" idea was pretty foolish since (1) it probably wasn't
at all necessary. Delivered at the office, the letter would probably
have gone right to Mrs. Brownstone anyway since her name was on
the envelope (2) it may actually delay delivery since if Mrs.
Brownstone isn't there when the mail is delivered, she will have
to go to the post office to pick up the letter (3) It may psychologically
have a bad effect, for, while I want to recruit Mrs. Brownstone's
sympathies and impress her with the importance of this matter
to me, it may inconvenience her to have to go to the post office
to pick up what is for her , after all, only another business
letter.
Nevertheless the thing is done. I have now done all I can in this
dual citizenship-credential problem.
Writing & sending this letter took me all afternoon. I had
planned to spend the evening studying. But B had an appointment
to go for a teacher employment interview in Terra Linda, north
of San Raphael in Marin County after 7 p.m., and she was really
afraid of going alone mainly because her car (mine isn't running
right now - the brakes are gone) isn't very reliable - in particular
there's good chance of a flat tire. So, very unwillingly, I agreed
to go with her. This meant mostly retracing the same route I had
been on yesterday to San Quentin Prison, crossing the Richmond-San
Raphael bridge, where the toll is 75 cents each way. At the school,
I waited an hour while she was interviewed. The interview, she
said, wasn't very satisfactory. The woman who saw her actually
said that her very youthful appearance would count against her.
On the way back, we stopped at San Quentin to see if there were
any evening tours of the prison. But the man at the gate said
the only tour was the one I had been on, Thursdays at one, &
that no women were allowed.
When B brought up the old familiar subject of marriage on our
way back, I admitted that, currently at least, I did not feel
the big objections to our getting legally married that I have
felt in the past, and that this might have something to do with
disgust at the Myrna mess. This is probably the first time I have
ever been that positive on the subject.
Saturday, March 3, 1962
(Written March 4) This eve after spending the afternoon at the
library, B & I went to a party given by our friend Walt McQuesten
& his new wife Carol at their apartment in San Leandro. It
was very typical of the type of party I have mostly seen in California
- nothing organized, simply a lot of people coming & going,
talking in small groups, with a phonograph playing continuously
and a table of crackers & potato chips with "dips"
& various cold drinks. I would much prefer a more organized
type of gathering where, for at least part of the time, the people
would become a single group for a game or discussion etc. Nevertheless,
I was not as ill at ease at this party as I have usually been
at others, & managed to keep talking to various people all
the time we were there (about 2 ¾ hours.) Most interesting
of these conversation was that with a young dairy farmer named
Ron Anderson from whom I learned much about the problems of his
profession, e.g. the surprising fact that the consumption of milk
& milk products has gone down about 16% in the last 15 years,
partly says Ron because people have become more diet-conscious,
partly because of fears of contamination of milk by nuclear testing.
I decided to send a birthday card to Myrna (her birthday is tomorrow),
addressing it to Mrs. Richard Moore at the address where my mother
said they are now living. All I said on the card was good luck.
But I'm not sure whether it would not be better, as my mother
suggested, to break off all contact with Myrna & Dick for
the time being, even though they owe me $50.
Sunday, March 4, 1962
(Written March 5) In many ways a typical Sunday with us sleeping
too late, B cooking things for me to eat during the week, me finding
little household jobs to do, shopping & tidying up, &
then both of us eventually going to spend the remainder of the
day in the library. Before leaving for the library, however, we
spent a most enjoyable hour on my bed making passionate daylight
love, a rare occurrence with us.
I am still reading Benjamin Thomas' biography of Lincoln, which
I began a week ago. I read it very slowly but with deep interest,
except in the more detailed political & military sections.
Monday, March 5 1962
11 p.m. This aft & eve I found myself at the library in one
of those rare moods when it seems I can easily read & become
absorbed in practically anything I choose. After finishing my
Lincoln book, I looked at some books concerning his assassination,
& was surprised how much I did not know about it. Then I began
Eric Goldman's The Crucial Decade 1945-55. I have been feeling
a little more calm & confident about my exam prospects. There
are times when I feel I really do know a lot about American History.
Tuesday, March 6, 1962
11:15 p.m. My generally calm & relaxed mood continues. I paid
$8 today to have my car brakes fixed at Steve's Garage. A letter
came from my mother who is now in Toronto, merely repeating the
same sort of thing she told us last Wed. & in particular urging
us to get married, & to avoid communicating with Myrna.
Wednesday, March 7, 1962
11:15 p.m. I got Steve the mechanic to fix B's car's brakes today,
so we finally have both cars in running order again. My general
state of calm optimism continues, even though I am not getting
a great deal of studying done.
At a T.A. meeting today with Mr. May we tried "standardizing"
our examination grading by all separately grading the same examination
paper. This was tried twice, & it was really surprising what
a wide range there was. On the first one, I gave a C+ while Mr.
May gave a D. On the second, I gave a D but May gave a B! To me
this "experiment" only revealed how utterly futile is
the whole system of subjective grading.
Thursday, March 8 1962
10:50 p.m. My days are becoming dull again - studying, marking
papers, T.A. duties, & little else. I'm reading Bailey's Wilson
and the Peacemakers but once again am beginning to worry about
the exam. I can't deny that a great deal depends on it. Yet I
am generally bearing up under the mental strain.
Friday, March 9, 1962
11 p.m. A dreary life I lead these days - little to do but study,
& I can do only a limited amount of that. Only the challenge
of the examination gives any point or meaning to my life at all.
Last week for a few days things were different. The day with my
mother the visit to San Quentin, were big events which took me
away from my drab routine.
Life is what I make it. I am in a situation which I alone have
created, and can change it at any time I wish. If only it were
that simple! Somehow I manage to tolerate this incredibly dull
existence. Today I continued reading about Wilson and the Peace
in Bailey.
Saturday, March 10 1962
(Written March 11) B went to a party in San Francisco with Harold
Moren, the boy with whom she has been having a strange & ambiguous
relationship for several months now. He is also a graduate student
in History, & he & B study in the same part of the library,
on the 7th floor of the stacks. (My carel is on the 5th floor).
I know him by sight, but have never spoken to him. B has spent
much time with him, eating, talking, going out on several dates.
He has sent her notes & even gave her a valentine present.
B, as is her rather amoral way, has told him nothing about me.
It has been pretty obvious that Harold has been gradually falling
in love with B. I had no fear of her reciprocating, so could tease
her about it. Certain weaknesses (or so they appear to me) in
her character seem to require continual new male conquests, while
preventing her from being honest in these relationships.
I feel perfectly secure in her attachment to me, and so have no
personal objection to these other little affairs of hers, which
she never allows to include any kind of physical affection. But
last night at the party the Harold affair came to a kind of crisis.
Harold told B he had found out about me, i.e. that he knows of
her attachment to me & that we live in the same house. (It
isn't surprising that he has found out. He has called for her
here several times & seen the name-card beside our bell, which
says BRILLIANT - SMITH. He has phoned here & I have answered
& taken messages for B. He has seen me talking to B in the
library, & apparently traced me to my carel, & saw my
name there.)
B told Harold she was glad he knew & Harold couldn't understand
how I could permit her escapades. He told B he was in love with
her, & then proceeded to get very drunk, so drunk that he
vomited, fainted, & had to be driven home (B driving his car
for him, some other friends taking him up to his apartment). B
has guilt feelings now about what she has done to Harold, but
they don't run very deep. In another way she rejoices in his submission
to her & her power over him, I think. In some way perhaps
he represents her father.
I avoided any intensive studying today, having had a kind of study-depression
the last 2 days.
This eve B & went to the movies & saw "The Hustler,"
a strange American film centering around the game of pool, highly
symbolic in tone.
Sunday, March 11, 1962
(Written March 12) After sleeping till 10, B & I spent much
of the day on household chores. I even mowed the lawn (at our
landlady's request), the first "odd job" I have had
since November. (I am paid at the rate of $1.25 per hour &
so earned 94 cents, which will be deducted from the rent.
B had her girl-friend Maria Tschempel to dinner here, but I was
at the library. B still generally takes pains to separate me from
her friends, but she is taking less care than formerly to hide
our living arrangement from them.
I'm still reading Bailey on Wilson, a very well-written book.
Monday, March 12 1962
9:45 p.m. I feel tired & depressed this eve, but have finished
another book. Only the thought that my ordeal will be over in
a few more weeks keeps me going. Surely I deserve to pass that
written exam this time. Surely I have learned & understood
enough by now about American history.
To relieve my tedium, I attended 2 "extra-curricular"
events today on campus - a film about the communist "brain-washing"
of American prisoners during the Korean War, and a lecture this
eve by Malcolm Cowley, reminiscing about the period 1938-40 in
the U.S. But somehow these activities don't suffice. Yet each
day has its moments of pleasure. I had them today towards the
end of a T.A. section meeting, when I got a good discussion going;
then eating my various meals, including the standard sandwich
- apple - candy bar supper in my library carel; then (earlier)
asking a pointed question during question-time after the showing
of that brainwashing film & having someone I knew approach
me afterwards & say he agreed with me; even finishing the
book on Wilson gave me a mild sense of satisfaction.
Tuesday, March 13 1962
10:25 p.m. One of the chief troubles of my present life is that
I have no real interests outside of my Ph.D. project. Since I
can't study all day every day, I am at a loss what to do with
the rest of my time. Sometimes T.A. duties like marking papers
give me something to do, but often there is not even that. So
I try to give myself things to do, e.g. this evening instead of
studying right through until 10 or 11, I went to a college debate
between 2 American & 2 Irish students, but this, though supposedly
amusing, was quite disappointing.
The truth is that outside of my studies which in themselves are
in many ways quite hateful to me, my life is more or less a blank.
Yet I cannot even plan for the future when they will be over.
All my attention & interest is fixed upon that morning in
late April when for the second & last time I will go through
the absurd process of trying to win the approval of 3 anonymous
men who will be judging me anonymously, by writing about American
history for 4 hours. Yet even after that, I will probably have
to wait weeks before learning the result. It is not a pleasant
prospect, these next 2 months, & I really have no one to help
me through it. B is really much more busy than I am, although
she finds time for quite an active social life.
But I am not worried about breaking down. I am oppressed not so
much by the strain as by the tedium. It is really impossible to
make plans without knowing how the exam will go. Assuming I pass,
it isn't necessary to make any, since things will then follow
on quite naturally. And it seems unwise to make plans on the assumption
that I won't pass. I'm hardly capable of doing so now anyway,
being so involved in trying to pass. Failure, should it come,
will mean the beginning of an entirely new life. Success will
mean to a large extent a continuation of things along present
lines, but with a certain relaxation of pressure (unless I fail
the oral, in which case the pressure will continue all the way
to December, a most dismal prospect.) What form that possible
"new life" might take I can at this point hardly envisage.
What a vacuum I live in!
Wednesday, March 14, 1962
11:10 p.m. For the first time in many months (it seems years!)
I have received an important piece of good news which affects
me personally. On March 2 I made what I felt was probably a forlorn
appeal to the State Department of Education, to extend the validity
of my teaching credential, which was due to expire on March 27,
unless I could before then submit proof of U.S citizenship. Today
I received a reply which apparently dispels all my fears about
losing my credential. In effect the letter states that , although
I cannot extend my present credential, I can apply for and receive
a new one. This doesn't really seem to make sense. I can only
conclude that the U.S. citizenship requirement for California
public school teachers is considered a very unimportant one, unless
some special exception has been made in my case, which I doubt.
Whatever the explanation, the significance of all this is that
a big worry is off my mind. Had I known that it would all be this
simple, I would never have been concerned about the delay in my
citizenship proceedings, & indeed I might never have applied
for citizenship at all.
The credential to me has great symbolic value. I have not used
it now for 1 ½ years, but its possession means that I can
always, when I wish, get a job as a substitute or regular teacher
in this State. This has come to be very important to me lately
since if I fail my examination it is only the credential which
gives me any sort of professional standing.
The new application gave me plenty to do this afternoon, filling
in forms, getting them notarized, getting a transcript, a money
order & a medical examination. My total expenses came to $16,
but at least I did get it all done this afternoon.
Thursday, March 15, 1962
(Written March 16) For several days now I have been feeling tense,
moody, depressed & indolent, and even yesterday's good news
has failed to snap me out of it.
On Thursdays I generally have nothing specific to do all day -
no classes, no lectures, no office hours, no meetings. About a
week ago I had the idea of giving myself a kind of holiday treat
today, by going on a trip to Sacramento for the day. I hoped a
little adventure excursion of this kind might re-invigorate me
for my studies. By this morning however, I still wasn't sure whether
I wanted to go or not, and, though I did finally set off, rather
than escaping from my malaise, I simply carried it along with
me, at least for the first half of lthe day. I felt so low that
even the idea of going to Sacramento lost appeal for me, &
I got no further than Martinez, the county seat of Contra Costa
County near the mouth of the Sacramento River.
Once in Martinez, however, where I had never been before, my spirits
began to revive just a little. I ate my lunch sitting on some
grass, & read a story by Mark Twain called "The Man Who
Corrupted Hadleyburg." I had never been in this town before,
so afterwards walked around a little, & was surprised how
un-prosperous it appeared, with many stores, movies etc. closed
down. I visited the County Court House in hopes that a case might
be in session. I was in luck, & sat for about an hour listening
to the testimony of a police officer witness under examination
& cross-examination in a narcotics case. Afterwards I walked
to the banks of the broad river on whose shore I had never actually
stood before, & then, by the car ferry which will shortly
be discontinued when a new bridge is completed, talked with a
middle-aged man who was sitting in a car about the things we could
see.
It is interesting that as I began to feel better, I began to want
to come home & get to work again. So at length I drove home
via Walnut Creek, marveling at the populousness of the whole area
through which I drove, & arrived home about 6 p.m., where
I had to give B much help on a paper she was writing, & had,
as usual, got stuck on.
Although I did spend a few hours in the library this eve., I didn't
accomplish much.
Friday, March 16 1962
(Written March 17) My general demoralization continues. It always
seems to be worst during the first half of the day. I slept until
11 a.m. & devoted my time at the library to reading a biography
of Horace Greeley by Hale. I also put in considerable time bringing
my SERVAS work up to date.
Saturday, March 17 1962
6 p.m. I am in one of my very tense moods & it has been with
me all afternoon, preventing me from studying or doing anything
useful or constructive. I feel that I want to destroy something.
Every day I suffer for hours in this way, & can do nothing
about it. I am virtually paralyzed - quite incapacitated. Eventually
it will pass.
(Continuing March 18) It did not fully pass until about 9 p.m.
when at last I was able to sit down & study a little. In between,
I had a meeting with B.
Sunday, March 18, 1962
(Written March 19) When my nervous tension showed no signs of
abatement today, even after I went for a walk in beautiful springlike
weather, I began to feel almost desperate. I had been planning
to go to the college hospital on Monday to seek medicinal relief,
but felt so bad today that I went to a drug-store & brought
home some "tranquilizing" pills for which no prescription
was needed. The chief ingredient is methapyriline hydrochloride,
the same ingredient as most sleeping pills contain. I took a pill
at about 4:30, & it very soon began to take effect. At least
I was untroubled by tension for the rest of the day, & was
able to study quite steadily in the library. After we came out
at 10 p.m. I felt unusually relaxed, & suggested a visit to
Allen & Myra, so we went there for 1 ½ hours.
Monday, March 19, 1962
10:45 p.m. Although the 2 "Tranquil" pills which I took
today kept me from feeling very tense, they did not seem to aid
me in my powers of concentration, & I seemed to get very little
done.
This was an important day for B - she began her job as a "Reader"
for Professor Angress, reading & marking mid-term examinations
in his German History course. This is the real beginning of her
professional career as a teacher. She has never done anything
like it before.
Tuesday, March 20, 1962
11:35 P.M. Although I took no tranquillizing pills today, I felt
remarkably relaxed all day. The tension & depression which
beset me for much of last week & drove me to pills has apparently
passed. Consequently the day passed with a kind of delightful
smoothness. My 2 T.A. classes this morning at 8 & 9 a.m. went
without a hitch, & I felt totally in command of the situation,
a rare kind of sensation for me.
My car has been having starting trouble. I concluded that the
battery was at fault, & this morning drove to Sears Roebuck
in Oakland where I had bought the battery, which was guaranteed.
They are going to check it, & meanwhile placed a "loaner"
battery in my car. Being at Sears, I did a little shopping - very
unusual for me - actually looking out for things to buy. I bought
some spice drops for B & a gravy-baster for the kitchen, also
a set of measuring spoons (our present set being broken), and
a pair of ripple-sole canvas shoes for myself which cost only
$2.
I decided to work at home rather than at the library, & divided
my time between marking essays (in which I took a real pleasure),
reading articles in "American Heritage," & reading
George Dangerfield's Era of Good Feelings.
Being in this relaxed & optimistic state of mind, I can view
my examination prospect with equanimity. At other times however
it almost terrifies me. It is amazing how large it bulks in my
vision. In a very real sense, I am only living for that examination.
Wednesday, March 21 1962
11:05 p.m. Once again I chose to study at home rather than at
the library, but spent the afternoon on an unexpected but welcome
job. I received a call from Mr. Alba, a man who had employed me
last November 7 to edit some writing he was doing. He needed help
again, so I drove to the motel in El Cerrito where he was staying.
He is Argentinian, & once again the work consisted of the
technical medical publications he puts out for nurses & other
hospital workers. As before, he was talkative all the time, &
I could have done the work much faster if I hadn't had to listen
to him much of the time. I was ther from 2:30 to 6 & charged
him $10 (including my transportation costs) which for me is exceptionally
high earnings.
2 other people have also called me about my manuscript editing
service, for which I still have a few little advertising notices
stuck up on campus, & I made an appointment to see one of
them tomorrow.
My general mood today wasn't quite as relaxed as yesterday, but
still generally good.
Thursday, March 22, 1962
11:30 a.m. I have just received a letter informing me that, after
"the most careful and sometimes agonizing consideration,"
my application to be a group leader in the Crossroads Africa project
this summer, submitted in December "was not among those selected
out of the excellent group which applied." I had been waiting
expectantly for some time for this news. My reactions are that
(1) at least the matter is settled & there is one less big
uncertainty confronting me (2) it is another failure, another
rejection, but not a very serious one, & in many ways a relief.
Had I been accepted, there would have been a host of new problems
to worry about - although on the other hand it would have been
a mighty boost to my morale, made me feel important, & given
me something to get really interested & concerned in, which
I probably need.
The very fact that I know the leaders for this project are selected
very carefully would have made acceptance very valuable to me.
(3) But I cannot pretend that the directors have made an erroneous
decision. Indeed I feel disposed to give them credit for seeing
through my misleading pretensions and judging quite correctly
that I am not of the material of which good leaders are made.
To a certain extent, I might have risen to the situation; but
I am basically unstable, and that would always be a handicap,
perhaps eventually a fatal one, considering the highly demanding
job for which I was applying. (4) So now I have once again no
idea what I'll be doing this summer. I certainly won't be going
to Africa.
Economics will be a major consideration. The main attraction for
me of the Crossroads Africa program was that it was a means of
free travel to a part of the world I wanted to visit. The great
determining factor is still my examination. Should I fail it,
I will not only have my summer free, but the rest of my life.
Should I pass the written but fail the oral a few weeks later,
I will be in more or less the same position I am in now, studying
independently for my next shot at the oral, which will not be
until December, and meanwhile probably working as a T.A. Should
I by some miracle pass both the written and the oral, I will feel
free to take a long holiday, but at the same time will probably
be anxious to begin work on my dissertation. (5) Another effect
of this Africa decision is that it relieves me of the last small
worry in connection with my U.S. citizenship application. For
in applying for the Africa position I stated that I was an American
citizen, and feared trouble that might arise if I were unable
to produce an American passport. So there is now no reason why
I should be in any haste at all to become a U.S. citizen.
(Continuing 11:30 p.m.) What a ghastly dull empty life I am living.
Sometimes it seems like a living death. To what extent have I
the power to change it? These are old old problems with me, which
long antedate the present situation. Perhaps this is the deepest
significance for me of the Africa rejection. It makes my life
that much more empty. Apart from the exams, I have nothing to
hope for , nothing to work for, nothing to look forward to. My
days are terribly monotonous. Today I was at home all day except
when I went briefly shopping & drove down to Shattuck Ave.,
to take our record-player to be repaired. I read 100 pages of
one book, marked a few papers -- & that is the sum total of
my accomplishments. To have done that little, & not even enjoy
doing it, does not seem to justify my life upon this earth. Yet
every day I am beset by momentary fears of death.
I ate 3 meals in our little kitchen & these supply almost
the only real pleasures of my day. For the 3rd day I avoided the
library, partly because I am afraid of becoming tense & depressed
there, as I did last week.
One reason, probably, why I am so dissatisfied with my life is
that it is too easy; there aren't enough challenges. I have a
regular income, plenty of food, a regular sex-life, a stable home.
I feel starved of color & excitement, yet incapable of trying
to procure or produce them. Every morning I wake up depressed,
& every night go to bed dissatisfied.
Friday, March 23, 1962
11:10 p.m. This was Charter Day at college, & an unusually
grand occasion, since President Kennedy was the principal speaker.
B & I went together to the Memorial Stadium, amid an atmosphere
of great excitement, including a surprisingly large number of
student picketers (carrying signs protesting various government
policies or failings) marching in front of the stadium. With my
binoculars, we had quite a good view of the proceedings. This
was only the second time I had seen a President in person. (The
first was in 1951 when I saw Truman speaking on July 4 at the
Washington Monument.)
He made what seemed to me a surprisingly good speech, but I thought
it ironic that one of his main points was that history is not
on the side of the Communists, but is now on "our" side,
pointing to a world of diversity, rather than of monolithic unity,
with the emergence of more & more new nations and internal
divisions in the Communist world. I have often heard the communist
idea of their own "manifest destiny" criticized, but
this is the first time I can remember hearing the same argument
advanced against communism.
Our record-player is going to cost $29 to put in good order, but I am willing to pay, since this machine means a lot to us, & it would cost much more than that to buy a new one equivalent in quality. (I bought this one second-hand nearly 2 years ago for $35.)
Saturday, March 24, 1962
7:40 p.m. This morning I had an odd job, the first I have obtained
through the college placement office in many months. It was a
typical gardening job, for $1.25 an hour, at a Berkeley hillside
home, involving mostly weeding. I decided to work only 3 ½
hours, but that was enough to leave me feeling physically that
I had worked at least a full day.
B has gone out on another date with another boy this evening,
this time someone named George. She assures me that all these
dates are only her attempt to replace me temporarily while I preoccupy
myself with studying. All the boys, she says, are just substitutes
for me, & I think this is true.
A letter has come from Hartley & Marge, who are now in Madrid.
Their letter prompted me to review my diary account of my own
visit to Madrid in the summer of 1952. I was more interested in
what was revealed about me as a person. In many ways, my own writings
seem to condemn me. I am myself disgusted at the continual emphasis
during these travels upon living as cheaply as possible, always
taking, never giving. The fact that I can feel this now would
seem to indicate some improvement in the last 10 years, but not,
I fear, any fundamental change in this respect. Still, I must
not be unfair to my past self. It is true that I have very little
money, and that I could not have gone on these trips at all, had
I not carefully conserved every penny. I had little money because
I never worked to earn any, & I didn't work because my parents
gave me a regular allowance. I never had any desire to make money
for myself. Economically, as well as in many other ways, my family
life left much to be desired.
Sunday, March 25, 1962
11:30 p.m. B was busy working at home all day, marking her first
set of exam papers & doing other school-work.
I did something unusual this morning. I went by myself to a gathering
of Jewish graduate students at the Hillel House. This group meets
every few weeks at 11 on Sunday for a brunch of lox (smoked salmon)
& bagels, together with other refreshment. I had never been
before, & hadn't been to Hillel at all for a long time. I
hadn't had smoked salmon, which I like very much, for years, not
I think since before I left England. It is, I understand, very
expensive. But the price of this brunch, at which there was plenty
to eat, was only 60 cents. I enjoyed the meal, & chatted &
played table-tennis with several people, including a friend of
B's named Barbara Wolfman, who interests me (although she doesn't
attract me) because through B I have learned of the affair she
is having with a boy named Sam. B told me she is taking birth
control pills, & that in connection with this she has to make
an X on a chart her doctor gave her every time she has sexual
intercourse. B quotes her as saying that she & Sam have intercourse
so frequently that the chart often looks like a barbed-wire fence.
I record this, not because it seems in any way important in itself,
but because the fact that it has stuck in my mind & made me
strangely more interested in this other Barbara indicates that
my sexual interests are by no means all concentrated in B, &
that I still often day-dream about having affairs with other girls.
As it happened, this Barbara Wolfman figured again in the day
later on, when she came here to our place to visit B whom it seems
she has made a sort of confidante. I was sitting downstairs on
the front lawn at the time, & didn't see her come, & only
found her when I came upstairs & walked into B's room without
knocking, to give her a flower. All this is important, because
it is practically the first time B has had one of her own school-friends
here when I have been her. B does not tell them of the nature
of her relationship with me, & she has tried to give this
Barbara the impression that this is a house in which many students
live, of whom I am only one. In a way it is easy to give this
impression since (a) our apartment has no separate door, &
so does not appear to be an apartment (b) the visitor sees 2 doors
leading into the hall downstairs, & does not know that these
both belong to the same apartment, in which live Emily Otis &
Sally Sanderson, 2 girl librarians who have been living here almost
as long as we have, but with whom we have a minimum of social
contact (c) the house actually has 2 entrances, one on Regent
Street & one on Parker. The Regent Street entrance leads into
the main part of the house in which live the owner, Miss Hult,
& her sister, & several student lodgers. That part of
the house is entirely separate from ours, & there is no connection
between the 2.
I wish that B could be fully honest with her friends about her
relationship with me, but it is at least a step forward when she
brings them here, although today's guest was unexpected, &
B felt somewhat disconcerted, even after she had left.
I wrote a letter to Hartley & Marge, & read a little more
of Dangerfield's Era of Good Feelings, which I have now been reading
for a week. A "tranquil" pill helped me to relax.
Monday, March 26, 1962
10:30 p.m. Like most of my days, this has been an unsatisfactory
one. Fearing or suffering from moods, I took pills which only
seemed to make me feel worse. Early in the morning I took a "No-Doze"
caffeine pill, which was supposed to make me "alert,"
but instead made me jittery. This afternoon, still feeling nervous,
I took a Tranquil pill, but this seemed to depress rather than
relax me.
I had contacts with an unusual (for me) number of people, but
none were satisfying. Steven Kern came when I was home, &
told me of sleeping last night with a girl other than his regular
girlfriend Judy, & confessed to feeling very guilty about
this.
Later I told some of my academic [problems] to Dick Ellis, one
of my fellow T.A.s, but he showed no sympathy, could only say
that I ought not to be working for a Ph.D. at all.
Tuesday, March 27 1962
12:15 a.m. With my big written examination just a month away,
I am going through an extremely unpleasant period, in which I
seem unable to do much studying, or anything else, and just seem
to mope aroung for much of the day, looking for ways to fill in
time. Apart from the 7 hours per week which my T.A. job regularly
requires of me, I am free to dispose my time in any way I wish.
I have no other definite commitments. But that freedom is extremely
painful, & I really don't know what to do with myself. I fear
that , as has happened in the past, the closer I come to the exam,
the more my mind will rebel against studying for it. What misery
this is!
Yet I did actually read a book today, or at least spent several
hours skimming through it. It is a new controversial history of
the Origins of the Second World War, by A.J.P. Taylor, which B,
not I, happened to have out of the library. I spent all afternoon
with it, but got very little else done today, even though I went
to the library this eve.
Meanwhile B is very busy with projects of her own, & we only
see each other late in the evening.
Wednesday, March 28, 1962
10:30 p.m. I feel close to nervous collapse. Undoubtedly I am
under a tremendous strain, with my big exam now less than a month
off, & so much depending on it. Rationally I can think of
many reasons why I should not be feeling like this, but I seem
incapable of helping myself, & I know no one else who can
help me.
The day seemed to pass quite quickly, much time being taken up
with attending to repairs at various stores of our record player,
my electric shaver, & my car battery, & this evening making
a birthday card for B.
I tried to read Schlesinger's Age of Jackson, but just couldn't
get interested in it.
The best time of my day was 11:30 - 1 p.m., when I conducted my
T.A. office hour, talked with 4 students, & forgot about my
own problems.
Thursday, March 29, 1962
11:50 p.m. B's period was due 2 days ago & she hasn't come
yet. She is normally quite regular, so this is an additional burden
on my mind, even though the possibility of her being actually
pregnant seems very remote. Today was her birthday, but we were
together only in the evening for dinner out & a movie. My
mood was unfortunately rather sad & subdued.
I worked for 5 ½ hours today at an odd job which I really
enjoyed - packing books in cardboard boxes for a family which
is moving.
In the mail, I received my teaching credential (see March 14)
, which is now valid until June 30 1964. This gives me a considerable
measure of security. But I fear that nothing could happen between
now & my exams that could make me feel really happy.
Once again, my effective studying was almost nil.
Friday, March 30, 1962
11:40 p.m. It looks as if I may have reached the turning-point
in my pre-examination crisis. This afternoon I went to the college
hospital, & asked the doctor if he could prescribe a tranquilizer
for me, explaining that I found myself unable to study for my
Ph.
D. exams next month. Without hesitation he wrote me out a prescription
for something called Equanil, a pill to be taken 3 times a day.
I have taken 2 today, & they really do seem to be effective.
While "under the influence" I experience no sense of
worry or tension, & am thus able to study better, (though
I still didn't accomplish much today.) The effects are negative
rather than positive. I don't feel at all elated, just pleasantly
relaxed, "tranquil."
B's period began this morning, thank goodness. She was 3 days
late. I was really very worried. (This was before I had my new
pills & it was quite awful to contemplate how much it would
upset our lives if she were to become pregnant, especially since
she is now due to begin high-school teaching full-time in the
fall (though we still don't know where.)
I had another odd job this morning. I have been taking these jobs
lately simply because of my inability to study. Today's was just
gardening - weeding, but gave me fresh air & exercise for
3 hours.
I feel on the verge of a last great effort to get an orderly study
program under way. It's still not too late.
Saturday, March 31 1962
11:30 p.m. Another odd job today. It lasted 9 hours, & at
$2 per hour was one of the most lucrative odd jobs I have ever
had. But the work was very hard - the usual kind of moving job,
loading a trailer at the old place & unloading it at the new,
repeatedly, with much maneuvering on stairs. The family 's name
was Gleason. Mr. G is a professor of English at the University
of San Francisco - the wife a Yugoslav, I thought remarkably pretty.
Another student named John Burke was hired along with me, &
we were kept working pretty steadily all day, except for a pleasant
lunch break when we all sat down to quite a good meal (I had liverwurst
sandwiches). So I made $18 today & had a good day's workout,
but accomplished little else.
Sunday, April 1, 1962
11:10 p.m. Despite 2 tranquillizer pills, I was hardly able to
study at all this evening, & consequently became very depressed.
The fellow I worked with yesterday told me of some history graduate
student he had heard of who had failed his oral exam twice, but
was being allowed to try it a 3rd time this semester. It makes
me sick at heart to think that the same sort of thing could quite
possibly happen to me. I might very well pass my written exam
& then proceed to fail the oral. Should that happen, I would
have to stagger on under this crushing burden at least until December,
& possibly, should I repeat the sorry saga I heard yesterday,
until a year from now. Another whole year trying to study for
a damned examination! The prospect is almost unthinkable.
I am beginning to realize how very unfortunate it is that B &
I are now both taking exams at the same time. For we have little
time to be of help to each other. If she weren't studying now,
she could help me review my stuff, & vice versa.
Monday, April 2, 1962
10:25 p.m. In this highly unpleasant period of my life, this has
been a peculiarly unpleasant day. It began when I noticed symptoms
of hay-fever this morning. This is my season, so I immediately
took one of my last year's supply of hay-fever pills. As far as
I can remember, this kind of pill was always effective, &
never had the side-effect of making me sleepy which I have suffered
from other pills. But this afternoon after lunch I began to feel
very sleepy, &, being at home, I went to bed at about 3:45,
& didn't get up until 6:15, & have felt wide awake all
evening.
After his lecture this morning, Professor May said he wanted to
come & visit my 10 a.m. section. Would I like him to come
today or next week? This was a complete surprise, & I was
feeling so low at that point that I suggested next week, though
I knew it would be far better to get it over with today.
The next disturbing event was a letter from Myrna, the first time
we have heard directly from her since December. It seems she has
left Dick again, but is keeping in touch with Ethel Ewens. She
says we can reach her only through Ethel. So I wrote immediately
to Ethel to try to learn more.
The worst news of the day - though not at all unexpected - came
when I telephoned to find out the result of my application for
a University Fellowship, for which I applied last December. As
expected, I had been turned down. One more failure, one more rejection.
After lunch I felt quite gloomy, & sat down to derive what
consolation I could from reading over my diary of 9 years ago.
It was then that I began to get sleepy.
This evening I have reviewed a few more of my book-notes.
Tuesday, April 3, 1962
7 p.m. This must surely be one of the most utterly demoralized
periods of my entire life. I seem to have undergone an almost
complete mental collapse. For the second day in a row I have slept
for 2 hours in the afternoon, & this time I can't blame it
on a hay-fever pill, because I didn't take one. But I did take
a tranquillizer to relieve an almost intolerable sense of tension
which beset me after lunch.
As far as the exams now go, I feel defeated in advance. I have
suffered so many defeats lately that there seems scarcely any
point in trying. What can I do in this awful predicament? I don't
know where to turn or what to hope for.
Yet it is a fact that so long as I am busy, I seem able to function
alright. I can still perform my T.A. job fairly satisfactorily,
& at my odd jobs I work well & seem able to forget all
my troubles. It is when I am in a position (which is most of the
time) where I have nothing to do but study, & where I know
I ought to be studying for the exam that I completely go to pieces.
So it is probably pretty safe to diagnose my condition as a pretty
extreme case of examination melancholia, and to predict that it
will not last beyond the exams. Even so, that means I may have
to suffer this way another 2 months, & at this point it is
hard to see how I could endure that long without becoming much
more seriously ill than I presently am.
Wednesday, April 4 1962
11:20 p.m. Things were just a little today, after yesterday's
nadir. I had decided to go today to the college counseling center
& see if I could obtain any psychological assistance. I was
given an appointment with a Dr. Lininger, & saw him for an
hour this afternoon. I had asked not to see Dr. Fernandez again,
since he had never been of much help in the past, & the last
time I went to him, last November, when I was in a situation very
similar to my present one, he had made me feel I was wasting my
time.
Lininger is a young man with a beard, & made a good impression
on me on the whole, though he wasn't as sympathetic as I would
like. What I really want is someone perfectly sympathetic who
can give me some kind of highly persuasive pep-talk which will
keep me working at full steam until I pass my exam. Lininger was
at least fairly positive in his approach, sought to get at the
heart of my problem, looked me in the eye, asked good questions,
& did not make me feel (as Fernandez generally did) like an
absolute idiot. Nevertheless, the only real conclusion he reached
today was that the only way for me to get over this tension &
anxiety which seems to be preventing me from working is, simply
to get back to work.
And strangely enough, after leaving him, I was able to do this.
I did not work particularly well, but at least I was able to spend
the remainder of the day in the library, mostly reviewing notes
or reading book reviews in the American Historical Review. Lininger
asked me if I would like to see him again, & I made an appointment
for a week from today.
Before seeing the counselor, while sitting in the waiting-room,
I had a strange experience: I was stung by a bee, for the first
time in my life. Something was ticking the back of my neck, &
as I brushed it away, I felt it sting me. The bee fell to the
floor, & I stepped on it. I was surprised how little the sting
pained me; but, being in a hospital, I was able to seek immediate
treatment. I went up to the men's dispensary, where an indulgent
nurse removed the stinger & gave me an ice-pack, which I held
to my neck for 15 minutes or so. No other treatment was necessary.
Thursday, April 5, 1962
1:30 p.m. A few minutes ago I received a telephone call which
constituted the first positive word I have had on the progress
of my application for U.S. citizenship since June 13 of last year.
Between that date & now I have written twice to the Immigration
& Naturalization service, & contacted them a third time
through a lawyer (see Feb. 8) but each time the response was negative
- they could give me no information. Today's call was from a Mr.
McGee, who said I would now soon be called for my final hearing.
He then asked "Is Barbara Jean there?" & when I
said no & that I didn't know where she was right now, he said
he wanted to see her before bringing my case to its completion.
I said I would ask her to get in touch with him, & expressed
gratitude that I was finally hearing something positive, &
he said they hadn't forgotten about me.
That was the end of the telephone conversation, which has left
me with mingled feelings. I am glad to hear from them at last
- but what is this about B? She was one of my witnesses. I think
she said she was my fiancée, & gave an address different
from this one. Why then did McGee ask if she was here, & why
does he want to see her again? The 2 possibilities which occur
to me are (1) my relationship with B is under investigation, &
if it is found out that we are not married, there may be trouble,
& this could even possibly be used as grounds for denying
me citizenship. (2) When appearing as my witness, B swore that
she had never been out of the country during the time she had
known me. This was because she did not want it to be known that
we had travelled together in Europe for 6 months, & especially
that she had secured a passport under the name of Barbara Briliant.
Since we both attended the "communist" World Youth Festival
in Vienna in 1959, complications can easily arise here. Nevertheless,
I still feel confident that my application will eventually be
granted.
I went to bed with a slight sore throat last night, was very much
troubled by it in the night, & took it this morning to the
college hospital, where I was given some cold pills & gargle
powder.
1:30 a.m. Despite my cold, I was able to study in the library
today with an unusual degree of concentration. If only I can keep
this up!
Friday, April 6 1962
12:40 a.m. A remarkable letter today from Ethel May Ewens, Myrna's
friend (her only remaining friend, it seems) in Los Angeles, to
whom I wrote on April 2 asking for more information about Myrna.
What she tells does not add anything to our previous knowledge,
except concerning the present situation: Dick has now definitely
left Myrna, since he "discovered no more money was forthcoming."
Ethel believes he never had any intention of marrying Myrna. He
left her with less than a dollar in her purse, & said he was
going back to Detroit. Myrna thereupon turned to Ethel, who has
put her in touch with a Jewish agency called Vista Del Mar, which
helps unmarried mothers. Since Myrna is only 3 months pregnant,
she can still work, so Ethel has moved her into a hotel &
helped her get a temporary job.
Ethel asks me to send money to tide Myrna over the next few weeks.
Ethel herself has apparently been spending quite a lot to pay
Myrna's bills. She says Myrna "seems blank emotionally."
The most remarkable part of the letter comes at the end. "Myrna
plans to give her baby away for adoption. I wish you and Barbara
could see it possible to take the baby when you two get married.
It is your own flesh & blood, & will be the first grandchild."
!! Actually I had already had this idea myself, but it is quite
surprising to me to hear someone else seriously proposing it.
To B & me it is more ludicrous than anything else, in view
of the fact that we ourselves aren't even married yet. Our own
condition is so unsettled that, quite apart from all the other
complications, the idea at present just isn't feasible . But how
very strange life is! To think that I would be asked to adopt
my sister's illegitimate baby!
I much dislike the idea of sending more money to Myrna when she
& Dick have already had so much, especially from my parents,
which he (as Ethel confirms) just gambled away. How do we know
that he won't come back whenever Myrna does get some money? But
B & I have decided to send a fairly small amount -- $20 or
$30 between us.
I had to pay $6 today for what seems a very unjust reason. My
car was parked in a block where the trees were to be sprayed.
Signs were put up, probably only 24 hours before, saying there
would be no parking there, & violators' cars would be towed
away. Mine was towed, & I had to pay $6 to redeem it.
I continued my studies at an average level of concentration, spending
most time going through back numbers of the American Historical
Review.
About my citizenship (see yesterday) B has made an appointment
to see Mr. McGee on Monday at 3, & I'll probably go with her.
He was evasive when she asked him what it was about.
Saturday, April 7, 1962
(Written April 8) I received word today of the last of my applications
for important things which had been pending for several months
(Others were my citizenship, Crossroads Africa project, and University
Fellowship, all decided negatively except the citizenship which
is still pending & will I hope advance a further step on Monday).
This was my application for renewal of my Teaching Assistantship
for the coming academic year. In view of my examination failure
& the fact that this second attempt, now coming up, is the
last I will be allowed, I did not expect to be given an unconditional
renewal of my teaching assistantship for the coming year, even
though I now have 2 years' "seniority." What I did expect
was that I'd be given it conditionally, upon passing the exam.
Instead, I am informed that I have been placed once again on the
"alternate list", but that there is good chance that
I will be called upon before school starts in September. This,
I suppose, amounts to nearly the same thing, but for several reasons
it is slightly disappointing:
(1) It is another in my current rejection-series & seems to
carry with it the implication that despite my 2 years' experience,
I have not been very satisfactory, & will only be used again
as a last resort. (2) It places me in the same insecure economic
position in which I found myself 2 years ago, with a probability
of a repetition of what happened then, i.e. hearing nothing all
summer, but then being called upon at the last minute. Nevertheless,
it's not an absolute rejection, & unless I pass the exam this
month, I won't have to worry about it at all anyway.
After working at the library this afternoon, I went with B to
a movie this eve, which turned out to be an excellent & unusually
satisfying double bill. Both pictures were concerned with children
& sex. The first, "Loss of Innocence," was taken
from a novel called "Greengage Summer," & was about
a family of English children spending a summer in France - particularly
the oldest, a girl of 16 ½ , who falls in love with a much
older man, who turns out to be a thief. Her sexual awakening was
quite delicately & beautifully portrayed, & all the children
were really endearing.
The second picture, "The Children's Hour," was made
from a play about 2 young teachers accused of being Lesbians.
Hollywood is just beginning to deal with such matters as these,
& in this case the impression given is that lesbianism is
really a horrible thing, & our sympathies are with the 2 women
only because the accusation isn't true. But there is also the
more valuable idea present that people tend to become what they
are thought to be, & one of the teachers before the end of
the film has admitted having sexual feelings towards the other,
though this is spoiled by having her commit suicide because of
the admission.
When we came out of the show, I felt in a talkative mood, &
insisted on telling B many of my family memories, particularly
those involving Myrna (nearly all of which B has heard before.)
I found that the memory which brought me closest to tears was
that of my father having once told me of how he had dreamed of
having a son with whom he could go to the park where they would
play cricket together. He had told me this to emphasize how little
his hopes had been realized, how differently I had turned out
from his expectation. This kind of thought is especially onerous
both to me and to B when we think of having children, whether
our own or Myrna's (see yesterday.)
Sunday, April 8, 1962
12:15 a.m. I spent the day writing letters & studying in the
library. Most important letter was to Ethel Ewens enclosing $30
for Myrna.
B in recent weeks has gone to several school districts for teaching
interviews, & has made up her mind that San Mateo is the place
where she wants to teach. If she gets the job there, we will probably
move there. But it is still extremely difficult for me to plan
ahead since so much depends on my exam this month.
Monday April 9, 1962
12:10 a.m. 2 fairly important events today. This morning, Mr.
May, the lecturing professor in the American History survey course
in which I am a T.A. (he is also officially my graduate advisor)
paid an arranged visit to my section meeting at 10 a.m., just
after his own lecture. He is visiting the classes of all the T.A.s.
For me, this was an important event, especially in view of the
fact that my fate at this University is perhaps partly in Mr.
May's hands. I wanted to do well, but didn't make any elaborate
preparations. I felt unusually good this morning, & fortunately
things went very well. We were discussing the U.S. in the First
World War. I kept the discussion going at a lively rate, brought
Mr. May in now & then, felt quite relaxed & in control
of the situation. It made me very happy when Mr. May told me afterwards
that he thought I had a real talent for teaching.
(Continuing April 10) It seemed to me he was impressed by the
relatively close rapport I maintained with the students, compared
with other T.A.s he had seen, and that he felt I was especially
good at arousing interest. It is so rarely that I receive compliments
that May's words, plus the fact that all his negative criticisms
were very minor ones, left me walking on air for the rest of the
morning.
In the afternoon came event number two. I drove with B to San
Francisco for her appointment at 3 with Mr. McGee, an investigator
of the Immigration & Naturalization Service. B's interview
lasted less than 45 minutes. Apparently, since she was one of
my main witnesses, Mcgee wanted to check with her some apparent
untruths she had stated in her original declaration. She had said
that she was my fiancée, that she had never been out of
the country, & had given her address in San Jose. McGee had
discovered, however, that a Mrs. Brilliant accompanied me to the
Vienna Youth Festival and that we were now living together, &
that B had a passport in the name of Brilliant. B & I had
talked this all over in advance, & agreed that it was best
at this stage to tell the truth. So she was able to remain remarkably
self-possessed & unruffled & admit that she had lied,
& "explain" that it was all because we weren't certain
about getting married. (McGee, who was quite polite, had thought
we might have been secretly married.) Apparently no harm is to
come of all this, & McGee, having discovered the truth, is
now ready to approve my application, but he said I may have to
produce now another witness instead of B. I am quite unperturbed.
As we were coming back across the Bay, we saw that traffic on
the bridge was hardly moving, & decided to stay & have
supper in San Francisco until it had eased. We spent some time
looking for a place to eat, & weren't very satisfied with
the Foster's we finally ended up in.
Tuesday, April 10, 1962
11:40 p.m. My big problem these days is not so much being able
to study as deciding what to study. Reading over old notes is
dull, & I'm not sure how valuable it is. But time seems too
short now to start fresh projects. Nevertheless, every now &
then I have a flash of optimism, when it really seems possible
that I am going to come successfully through this ordeal.
Wednesday, April 11, 1962
11:45 p.m. At noon on campus a ceremony was held in the Student
Union Plaza dedicating the area as a public forum in which free
speech may prevail at all times a la Hyde Park. This struck me
as very important, since hitherto the administration has imposed
certain restrictions. Also I like the idea very much because I
personally like the idea of a place where impromptu speakers may
orate, & where I may go to listen, or to speak myself. In
fact, I became the first person to make use of this free speech
privilege.
After the ceremony was over, the microphone was left hooked up
& it was explained that ordinarily no microphone will be available,
but that for the next half hour, anyone might use it who cared
to. So I myself immediately took advantage of this, simply to
introduce myself & say that, although I have often been ashamed
of this country, this state, & this university, I wanted to
take this opportunity to say that for once I had a feeling of
pride, and that I felt this new privilege was of great significance.
Afterwards I thought of many other things I could have said. The
crowd was not large. Reporters took my name.
At 2 p.m. I went for the second time to see the counselor Dr.
Lininger, & once again I felt I benefited from my hour talking
with him. He makes me feel calmer about my exam prospect, &
does not belittle me as Fernandez always did.
Thursday April 12 1962
2:15 a.m. B had made an appointment to go for a teaching interview
this afternoon, to the town of Winters in the direction of Sacramento,
& I went with her, though neither of us was sure why we were
going, since B has more or less decided to accept a job only in
the Bay Area. While B was being interviewed, I explored Winters,
a small farm community, & was amazed how completely thoroughly
provincial it seemed. There was something quite deadeningly dull
about the place, & nothing attractive, except some pleasant
tree-shaded residential streets and the river flowing nearby.
I am not normally prejudiced against small towns, but it didn't
take me long to decide that this was a place where I definitely
would not want to live.
On the way home, we discussed this problem of deciding where to
live, which is still so difficult because our circumstances are
so unsettled.
Another letter today from Ethel Ewens (see April 6) in which she
says "On second thought, I think you are right about not
adopting the baby. I do not think Myrna should have any reminders
of this unhappy year." This makes me glad I treated her suggestion
reasonably in my reply to her first letter.
Friday, April 13 1962
12:15 a.m. Depression has come upon me this evening. I slept till
nearly 11 this morning - perhaps that has something to do with
it. I have very little desire to study. I seem to have accomplished
very little today, except helping B finish a paper, reading a
few text-book pages & putting a few thoughts on paper about
my concept of an ideal life. At the moment I feel I have very
little to look forward to, whether or not I pass my exam. Life
is empty. Thank goodness I know this is only a passing mood.
Saturday April 14, 1962
1:45 a.m. Rather a strange day, uneventful, but not unhappy. B
& I slept till 11, then B told me she was going to San Jose,
probably overnight.
I went on a shopping expedition, calling in on the Carricos on
the way, & taking Myra & baby Glenn with me, then returned
home & spent the rest of the day here marking blue-books &
studying. I marked 24 books & read about 1 ½ textbook
chapters, & that is the total of a full day's work.
Sunday, April 15 1962
(written April 16) B was away in San Jose, & I had arranged
yesterday to go on a hike with Allen & Bill Pounds & some
girlfriend of Bill's. The day began in auspiciously. I was supposed
to be picked up at 10 a.m., but when I phoned Allen at nearly
10:30, he was just getting up. Bill finally came for me in their
car about 11 & we drove, while I let off steam, to Mills College
to get the girl Diane Cohen, a large & rather unattractive
girl whom Bill knows through the peace movement. Then we went
back to Berkeley to get Allen.
Our hike was in an area Allen had been to before, along the sea-shore
just south of the Golden Gate Bridge. Beachcombing, rock climbing,
picnicking - it was all quite pleasant, & my first real exertion
in 2 weeks. Strange that an area like that exists along the edge
of a great city.
B was home when I returned about 6. I was too tired to do much
work. We started love-making in bed, but when I was about to enter
her with my fingers, she asked if my nails were clean. This made
me lose interest, & I turned over. She, calling me cruel,
stormed out of the room & went to sleep in her own bed.
Monday, April 16, 1962
8:30 p.m. I read about 80 textbook pages at the library &
at home & was able to concentrate pretty well, but still it
goes slowly & I wonder how much I will remember & of how
much value this kind of reviewing will be on the big day just
10 days hence.
This is my Easter vacation week, the main importance for me being
that the main library is open only from 8 a.m. until 5 p.m. Since
it usually takes me several hours fully to wake up, I'm planning
to try getting up at 5 a.m. so as to be able to make as much use
of the library as possible.
B went for the day with a friend of hers named Dick to Carmel
& isn't back yet.
Larry is here & staying overnight, but for once I have preferred
to sit & study rather than play table-tennis or go for a hike
with him.
Tuesday, April 17, 1962
10:05 p.m. I had hoped to get up at 5 today, but didn't sleep
well & so didn't rise until 6:30. Sex in bed with B was another
enjoyable delay, so I didn't make it to the library until after
9:30. Studied there until 5 (an hour out for lunch with B) then
home to lamb-chop supper. Larry is staying overnight again tonight.
He is still a high-school teacher in Oroville, but wanted badly
to change to college teaching, & is going tomorrow for an
interview at San Mateo Junior College. I played a little table-tennis
with him this eve.
Wednesday, April 18, 1962
10:15 p.m. Up before 6 a.m., & studied fairly well all day,
though still not with tremendous intensity. If I don't pass this
written exam a week from tomorrow, it will not be because I don't
know a great deal about American history, but either because I
don't have the right kind of knowledge (not enough names, dates,
statistics) or because in those fatal four hours I wasn't able
to express myself well enough to satisfy the examiners.
Thursday, April 19, 1962
9p.m. Now that it is coming to an end, my 5 months of waiting
to take the Ph.D. written exam again seems to have passed with
amazing speed. Another week, & it will be over. If only that
were to be the end of the ordeal, but no, I must then wait weeks
for the result, & meanwhile worry & work for the oral.
Really this is all a ghastly business. What a way to spend one's
time - to have youth slip by in emptiness. But I'm not really
depressed right now, and I continue to review steadily, spending
each day now in the library until it closes at 5 p.m., & trying
to get up a little earlier each morning (today at 5:45 a.m.)
As the big day approaches, my confidence increases somewhat, though
not day passes without moments of pessimism.
Friday, April 20, 1962
9:45 p.m. Another day in the library with my Hofstadter, Miller,
& Aaron textbook. I am at the stage now in my studies where
I feel that if only I had more time I could really do a good job
of preparing for the exam. The trouble is, this feeling never
comes until a few days before the exam!
After reading over the seminar paper I wrote for Mr. Stampp last
year on Abolition & southern negroes during the Civil War,
I have decided to submit it to the Journal of Negro History, since
I feel it has merit, but doubt if they'll accept it, probably
because (1) it's too long (2) it doesn't contain enough original
thought.
Saturday, April 21, 1962
9:10 p.m. My study-enthusiasm seems to have slackened slightly
today, but it may just be fatigue.
I have received word of acceptance as an "alternate"
T.A. for the summer session. I'm not looking forward to the summer
at all, having no plans. I certainly don't want to continue as
a T.A. if I can find some more congenial way of making money.
The idea of having constantly to support myself is very onerous
to me. B will soon be making "big money," but not till
the fall, & anyway I don't want to have to rely on her.
Sunday, April 22, 1962
9 p.m. I went today on a very enjoyable excursion with the Carricos
& some others, which included a visit to Sausalito Harbor
& then a hill-hike, finishing up at Rodeo Cove.
As often, it was only at the last minute I decided to go. I had
wanted to spend the day studying, but B was going to spend the
day in San Jose with her parents, & the library was closed
(it was Easter Sunday) & I did study from 5:30 a.m. when I
got up till about 11, and the weather was lovely, so I called
Allen & told him I'd changed my mind about going with him
on his hike today.
The best part was climbing & rambling with Allen & Bill
Pounds in the Marin hills, studying rocks, plants, & lizards,
& feeling free & alive. It probably did me much good.
Monday, April 23, 1962
6:45 p.m. For some reason I've been feeling unusually tired today.
Perhaps it's because school resumed today, after the Easter recess,
though that required only 2 hours of my time-one lecture, &
1 class to conduct.
Whatever the cause, I haven't felt as keen an interest in my studies
as I should in these last few pre-exam days, and my confidence
has been pretty low. Still I do as much as I can.
The U.S. is about to begin a new series of nuclear bomb tests
at Christmas Island in the Pacific. A group of opponents of nuclear
testing is building a boat which they intend to sail into the
test area as a form of protest. I once wrote a story about an
incident of this kind, & was playing now with the idea of
volunteering as a crew member if I should fail my exam again,
but I see in the newspaper that they already have 100 volunteers,
& need only a crew of 3, so I guess that idea's out. Thus
my future, if I do fail, remains an absolute blank. I have no
idea what I will do.
Tuesday, April 24, 1962
(Written April 25) My 2 section meetings went well this morning.
I always enjoy talking about the 1920's - but my study concentration
was not at its best. Nevertheless, I finished skimming Ernest
May's "Imperial Democracy: the emergence of America as a
World Power," & reviewed my notes on Henry May's lectures
& began for the last time to look through my note-cards.
These days I hardly see B. I get up at 5:30, while she sleeps
till 7:30 or 8. Perhaps we are awake together for a few minutes
before I leave for school. During the day, she usually comes down
from her 7th-level desk to my 5th-level carel in the library stacks,
& we talk for a while. I leave the library at 5, come home
& have supper, & am in bed by 9:30, long before B comes
home or comes to bed. The main reason for all this is simply that
I want to be sure of being wide-awake at 8 a.m. on Thursday morning
for my exam.
Aldous Huxley, the famous English novelist & thinker is in
residence at the University this semester, & today I trailed
him to his home, which I discovered is an apartment only a block
away from here. I saw & recognized him shopping in our Safeway
market, looking at the labels on items with his magnifying glass.
He is tall & thin, looks very old, & his eyes are clouded.
I followed him when he left the store. He walked in an erratic
manner, but made it safely home. The biggest influence this man
had on my life was with his book The Art of Seeing, which got
me interested some 9 or 10 years ago in the Bates system for improving
the sight without glasses by means of eye exercises. Thus it seemed
ironical that in order to get a good look at him today in the
market, I had to put on my own glasses, while he himself is now
nearly blind.
Wednesday, April 25, 1962
5:50 p.m. Tomorrow, at last, the written exam for the Ph.D. will
forever be over for me. I expect to pass, as I expected 5 months
ago. Since then, I have read a few more books, heard a few more
lectures - so what? I had an optimistic mood earlier today, but
right now am afflicted with gloom. For I know that tomorrow will
bring no release, only a slight change of burdens. For this written
exam I have been studying the whole of U.S. history since 1780.
If I pass, the oral will examine me in a narrower field, U.S.
History since 1890, but, in addition, in 2 "minor" fields,
American Colonial history, and British 19th Century. For all this,
I'll have only 5 weeks to prepare, with the grim possibility that
I might fail, and then have to sweat it out for another half-year!
My visit today to Dr. Lininger, my current psychiatric counselor
does not thus seem to have done me much good. Thank goodness I
know this is only a passing mood, & tomorrow morning will
be very likely to find me in good mental trim. At the moment,
however, & for much of today, I couldn't bear to look at a
history book, or at least found it impossible to study when I
tried.
Thursday, April 26, 1962
3:45 p.m. I have taken the Ph.D. written exam in U.S. History
since 1780 at the University of California at Berkeley for the
second time, this morning, and it proved to be an unexpectedly
painful experience. I did very poorly, and in fact probably failed,
but the misery I still feel comes not so much from the anticipation
of failing as from the agony of this morning itself.
My calamity arose from several factors: (1) Only 4 questions were
given, with no choice allowed, and on only one of these did I
know enough to give a reasonably good answer (2) I had assumed
that this time, as when I first took the exam last Dec. 1, plenty
of extra time would be allowed at the end, so that I needn't worry
too much about timing. Consequently I spent nearly 2 hours on
my first answer. But then we were told that we must finish sharply
at 12. (3) After writing for about 3 hours, i.e. my first 2 answers,
I suddenly began to feel very tired, & almost incapable of
going on. Since in addition I now had to tackle the 2 most difficult
questions, I was practically at a loss, & wrote virtual rubbish
& very little of that. I got to feeling so bad that by about
11:45 I just couldn't write any more at all, but just sat there
wanting the world to end. This was the worst experience of its
kind I have ever had, and for the first time in my life, I wrote
an apologetic note to the examiners explaining that I hadn't left
myself enough time & that I had gone mentally dry after 3
hours.
I came out of the exam room feeling sure that I had failed; but
thinking it over now, I rather expect to be told that I have been
given a "bare pass." For I think I did demonstrate some
capacity on my first 2 answers, though even they weren't exceptional,
and I have heard of a person passing after spending the whole
time on just one answer. Somehow it seems very unlikely that I
will be told in 2 weeks or less that I have failed the exam &
thus am "through." The most irksome thing now is that
I must still wait those 2 weeks to learn my fate. The system seems
so beastly unfair in so many ways!
Friday, April 27, 1962
12:35 p.m. 24 hours after my exam fiasco, I am still having difficulty
adjusting to my new situation & feel I need to do much writing
& thinking. There are many things which make it very painful
for me to think about the exam: (1) the fact that I expressed
myself so poorly, even on the 2 questions I could answer best
(2) the fact that after all these months & years of work,
so little chance was given me to demonstrate what knowledge I
do have (3) the fact that, by any objective standard, I am almost
bound to be failed again & thus, as far as the Ph.D. is concerned,
to have completely wasted my time at Berkeley (yet such a judgment
seems so cruel & unfair that it is still hard to believe I
must suffer it & continue to hold out hope that "they"
will contrive to pass me anyway.
What should I do in my present situation? The most practical approach
is simply to assume that I have passed until I learn definitely
that I haven't, & go ahead full steam studying for the oral.
But naturally I feel rather demoralized right now, & that
is hard to do. For the past 2 weeks I've been getting up at 5:30,
but today I slept till 8.
Barb is gloomy too, partly because of my dejection, & partly
because she has not yet been offered a teaching job. I feel a
growing sense of insecurity. Our present world, centering around
this apartment and the University, which has been remarkably stable
for 2 years, must now it seems soon come to an end. Where will
we be, what will we be doing, a few months from now? I feel a
need for help & advice, when there is none to be had, or none
I trust.
When am I going to take a stand and resist this aimless drifting
which has characterized my life for so long?
(Continuing April 28) In the afternoon I decided to go to Mr.
May before our scheduled 3p.m. T.A. meeting & consult with
him about my present position. When I told him why I didn't think
I had passed the exam, he said he was very sorry to hear that
because both he & Mr. Sellers thought I was a good T.A. His
attitude however was unclear. At the same time he seemed to want
to sympathize with me & defend the system, with the latter
feeling winning out. The only hope he seemed able to offer me
was the slim chance that I might be allowed a 3rd try at the written
exam. But I told him I wouldn't want that, since I had done worse
the second than the first time, & saw no chance that another
6 months would guarantee any improvement. He only said I should
come & see him when I know the result for sure.
Later on, however, during our T.A. meeting itself, we began to
discuss some of the problems of the graduate program, & I
took the opportunity to read aloud a passage from Teacher In America
by Jacques Barzun, a book I have recently discovered. The passage
deeply criticizes a system which, while it is supposed to be training
college teachers, puts all the emphasis for the Ph.D. upon research.
This put our discussion on a more frank level. Mr. May said he
agreed with nearly everything Barzun said, & even went so
far as to admit that he himself couldn't see the value of the
Ph.D. written exam. On the other hand, he seemed to feel that
too many changes have recently been made in the system, &
he doesn't like to contemplate any more.
For some reason, I felt in a rather buoyant mood all this afternoon.
For better or worse, I began to feel that my hour of liberty was
at hand. Why go on studying for the oral when it now seemed so
unlikely that I would pass the written? The only positive thing
I could think of doing to save my academic situation was drawing
up some kind of eloquent appeal for some higher form of justice
on the part of the History Department.
After the T.A. meeting my high spirits manifested themselves when
I asked if any of my colleagues would like to come over to the
Student Union games room & have a game of table-tennis with
me. Ellis said he would, & I beat him 2 games out of 3, then
walked him home & came back to the Union & did something
I've long been wanting to do. I went into the art projects room
where any student may go & do any art work he pleases. Free
water colors & paper etc. are available, & I spent 3 ½
hours doing my first painting since Sept 1960, a combination of
surrealism & abstract design which I called "Goodbye
to All That," having in mind that a long unpleasant period
in my life seems to be coming to an end.
I much enjoyed being able at last to express myself this way,
eating my sandwiches, whistling, humming, listening to records,
talking with other "artists" as I worked, although I
did become rather tired towards the end. I wanted to complete
it in one go, so as to be able to give it to B this eve, as evidence
that I am still capable of being creative, a subject about which
she had lately expressed concern. She seemed pleased with it.
Sunday, April 28, 1962
I have spent all day writing the "eloquent appeal" I
contemplated yesterday, to those who control my fate in the History
Department. I write with the assumption that I have definitely
failed the exam & that my college career is at an end. My
point is that I feel it unfair that one exam should carry that
much importance, especially when my chief desire is not to be
a historian but a college teacher. It will still take another
day for me to finish & type it out. I don't intend to do anything
with it until I get the exam result.
Sunday, April 29, 1962
10:15 p.m. A profound despondency hangs over me. I did not write
any more of my "eloquent protest" (see yesterday.) The
more I thought about what I had written, the less practical value
I could see in it. The system is not going to be changed just
for me. Regardless of how many extraneous factors I introduce,
the conclusion must still be drawn that, if I failed the exam
it is because of some fault in myself. Ultimately I must accept
the verdict.
If only I could know the worst already - but no, I must wait &
wait, & even go on with my T.A. job & my studies in the
interim. My thoughts today have often been very black. The thought
that I may have wasted 2 ½ years of my life enduring prolonged
unhappiness for the sake of a goal which I was never to attain
is an extremely depressing one. My career at Berkeley has indeed
on the whole been remarkably unhappy. I could only be redeemed
by success in my Ph.D. project. To fail in this way makes my whole
life seem very empty. No doubt I will eventually rise out of these
depths, but it will take much time.
Why did I do so poorly in the exam on Thursday? First and most
importantly, simply because the questions were too hard for me.
Only one out of the 4 was really fully within my capacity. I didn't
know enough, hadn't read enough, couldn't remember enough, and
wasn't sufficiently accustomed to dealing with these kind of questions
to do well on the others. Secondly, I fell apart after 3 hours.
But this was not so much because I was exhausted as because the
2 remaining questions looked so formidable. Thirdly, I deliberately
spent a long time on the first 2 questions, hoping we might be
allowed extra time, as was the case when I last took the exam
- but this time we were stopped right at 12.
So I have to face the fact that, if I failed, it was just because
I wasn't good enough to pass. Although I have fulfilled all the
course requirements, & generally done well in them, as a student
of American History I am still only a beginner. I simply don't
have the background on the subject that my fellow graduate students
do. I don't have their sophistication with the material, &
to acquire it would require additional years of study. At the
present stage, I don't feel at all prepared to put in any more
time on this heartbreaking project, though perhaps I may yet change
my mind.
I spent the day mostly in simple jobs - mowing the lawn, doing
the laundry, helping with a local Cancer Fund collection.
Monday, April 30 1962
10:20 p.m. Strangely, in view of present circumstances, I was
in a good humor most of the day, & my T.A. section this morning
seemed to go particularly well. I had feared that with academic
doom hanging over me, my teaching would go to pot, but on the
contrary I felt unusually relaxed in today's class.
I spent much time marking papers. I still couldn't bring myself,
until nearly the end of the day, to think about getting back to
regular studying again. I wrote down thoughts about my present
position, & it is interesting how the idea of staying on at
college & trying the written exam eventually even a third
time, if necessary, & if I am permitted to do so, which 3
days ago was absolutely abhorrent to me, now seems at least worthy
of serious consideration. The arguments in favor of doing so are
mostly reasonable ones, those against mostly emotional.
I went for the second time to work in the Art Projects Room for
a few hours, but was not quite as absorbed in the painting I began
this time, & didn't finish it, but left it there to take up
again when in the mood.
Only at about 8:30 p.m. did I drift up to the library, and there
begin once again to look at American Colonial History, which I
haven't touched for 5 months. Strangely I found my interest &
concentration-power remarkably high as far as reading was concerned,
but wasn't sufficiently motivated to take any notes. In any case,
I'm still not sure what sort of notes I ought to take. None that
I have taken so far, often with much labor, have been of much
use to me.
Tuesday, May 1, 1962
11:25 p.m. Despite the very uncertain nature of my present situation,
I am gradually getting back into my old routine. Today I conducted
my 2 morning classes, marked papers, came home for a leisurely
lunch, read some of Jacques Barzun's book Teacher In America,
much of which I find very interesting because so relevant to my
own experience as pupil & teacher, particularly in college.
Then I spent some time repairing worn stitching in my briefcase
(a periodic task which I enjoy) and finally went to the library,
with my sandwiches, banana & candy about 5:30, & was there
the rest of the evening, reading Colonial & English history.
For some reason, my general mood is remarkably placid. I feel
somehow ready for whatever may befall.
Wednesday May 2, 1962
5:55 p.m. MIRACLE! 90 minutes ago, while I was here at home sorting
papers to take my mind from my troubles (but only being reminded
of them by the papers themselves) B telephoned me from the college
library. She had been to the History Department office and learned
that the examination results were out, but she couldn't be told.
I would have to call in or come in myself, or wait for the mail
tomorrow. This was unexpected news. I had anticipated being kept
waiting up to 2 weeks, as I was in December. But it was unwelcome
news too, for I was sure that I had failed, & was none too
anxious to hear it. (I had not intended to make any inquiry about
the results, but told B I wouldn't mind if she did so, so that
she could break the news gently to me.) I debated now whether
to end the uncertainty today or not. B seemed strongly to want
me to. I decided I would, but not by myself. Instead of telephoning
in, I would meet B at the History office at ten to five.
It took courage to go right up to Mrs. Radke, the thin middle-aged
cat-faced graduate secretary & ask for my result, for I remembered
all too vividly the pain of her last result for me. But I managed
to do it with a smile, and she told me I had passed, barely.
It took me absolutely by surprise, for although rationally there
remained in a part of my mind the absurd possibility that they
might pass me, emotionally I had quite convinced myself that I
hadn't a chance. For 6 days I had been attempting to resign myself
to the worst, especially since talking to Mr. May on April 27.
B wasn't as surprised as I, for Mrs. Radke had hinted to her that
the news would be good, otherwise, B says, she (B) wouldn't have
urged me to come & hear it.
My feelings are mixed. Of course I am glad to have passed, but
it all seems so irrational, and it makes my genuine suffering
of the past week so ridiculous. I was sure I had failed because
I had given acceptable answers to only 2 out of 4 questions, and
even those 2 answers were not, in my opinion, of outstanding quality;
and I had the impression from various sources that no one had
or could pass on such a poor showing. Just why the examiners decided
to pass me I may never know. Was it purely the merit of my answers?
Or were other factors taken into account - my previous record,
the fact that this was my second try, perhaps sheer human sympathy
& the quality of mercy?
Whatever the answer, my position now is that I will have about
a month to prepare for the great remaining hurdle, the oral examination,
and I must once again give my all to my studies. Now that I have
attained this goal, the next doesn't seem quite so formidable,
but still I'll not be surprised to fail that too on the first
try.
But all in all, the significance of today's miracle, it now looks
as if I really will eventually make it to the Ph.D.
Now I am going to send a few cards and letters announcing the
news.
May 3, 1962
11:05 p.m. Only gradually m I becoming accustome to the idea that
I have leapt a great hurdle, whether or not it was largely one
of my own erecting.
I thought it would be easy for me to study now, with only a month
to go to the last big hurdle; but today was warm, & I got
very little done. My trouble, as often, seemed related to eating.
I broke my usual routine, & suffered consequent feelings of
dissatisfaction, over-fullness, hunger, & sleepiness.
I went back to the History office & borrowed my exam answers
& re-read them. The 2 good answers I gave really were fairly
good, I thought. It's not so hard for me to understand now why
I was given a pass. At least I showed this time a breadth of reading
which I hadn't demonstrated in December.
Today's most important news is that B has received her first definite
offer of a teaching job for the fall, from the Richmond School
District. She wasn't impressed with the school, & the pay
isn't as high as many other districts (only about $5200) and they
want her to decide by about next Wednesday. She is going there
tomorrow for a closer look at the school, but isn't happy about
the situation because other districts she would have preferred,
e.g. San Mateo, Hayward, haven't made her an offer yet, &
won't reach a decision until after the Richmond deadline.
I have sent postcards & letters announcing my exam success
to my parents, Myrna, Marsh, Andy & Elaine Heinsius, Gerry
Goldstein, Larry Kirsch, Hartley & Marge, B's parents, &
Gale Galant. In addition, I've been happy to inform Steve Kern,
our landlady Miss Hult, Roger & Nancy Sharp (they sent me
a congratulatory card) Allen Carrico. This list includes nearly
all the people to whom I am closest. It's a long time since I've
been able to write them any good news about myself.
Friday, May 4 1962
12:30 p.m. For a week or more now I have had a persisting pain
on the right side of my back, especially when I bend even slightly.
Yesterday I went to the college hospital about it, but the Dr.
could find nothing wrong. But still it bothers me. It feels like
a strained muscle.
I found it easier to study today, & indeed I'll have to work
hard now, for I learned today that I'll have a week less before
the orals than I thought, since a couple of the professors on
my committee want to get away early. So my D-day may be May 31.
I saw Richard Nixon this morning - former Vice President &
unsuccessful presidential candidate (Republican) in the last election.
He gave an outdoor speech on campus. It disturbed me to hear him
applauded when he praised Kennedy's decision to resume nuclear
testing, saying it was the only thing he could do.
B went to Richmond High School this morning (see yesterday) and
returned depressed. This decision is going to be a hard one.
May 3, 1962
11:05 p.m. Only gradually m I becoming accustome to the idea that
I have leapt a great hurdle, whether or not it was largely one
of my own erecting.
I thought it would be easy for me to study now, with only a month
to go to the last big hurdle; but today was warm, & I got
very little done. My trouble, as often, seemed related to eating.
I broke my usual routine, & suffered consequent feelings of
dissatisfaction, over-fullness, hunger, & sleepiness.
I went back to the History office & borrowed my exam answers
& re-read them. The 2 good answers I gave really were fairly
good, I thought. It's not so hard for me to understand now why
I was given a pass. At least I showed this time a breadth of reading
which I hadn't demonstrated in December.
Today's most important news is that B has received her first definite
offer of a teaching job for the fall, from the Richmond School
District. She wasn't impressed with the school, & the pay
isn't as high as many other districts (only about $5200) and they
want her to decide by about next Wednesday. She is going there
tomorrow for a closer look at the school, but isn't happy about
the situation because other districts she would have preferred,
e.g. San Mateo, Hayward, haven't made her an offer yet, &
won't reach a decision until after the Richmond deadline.
I have sent postcards & letters announcing my exam success
to my parents, Myrna, Marsh, Andy & Elaine Heinsius, Gerry
Goldstein, Larry Kirsch, Hartley & Marge, B's parents, &
Gale Galant. In addition, I've been happy to inform Steve Kern,
our landlady Miss Hult, Roger & Nancy Sharp (they sent me
a congratulatory card) Allen Carrico. This list includes nearly
all the people to whom I am closest. It's a long time since I've
been able to write them any good news about myself.
Friday, May 4 1962
12:30 p.m. For a week or more now I have had a persisting pain
on the right side of my back, especially when I bend even slightly.
Yesterday I went to the college hospital about it, but the Dr.
could find nothing wrong. But still it bothers me. It feels like
a strained muscle.
I found it easier to study today, & indeed I'll have to work
hard now, for I learned today that I'll have a week less before
the orals than I thought, since a couple of the professors on
my committee want to get away early. So my D-day may be May 31.
I saw Richard Nixon this morning - former Vice President &
unsuccessful presidential candidate (Republican) in the last election.
He gave an outdoor speech on campus. It disturbed me to hear him
applauded when he praised Kennedy's decision to resume nuclear
testing, saying it was the only thing he could do.
B went to Richmond High School this morning (see yesterday) and
returned depressed. This decision is going to be a hard one.
Saturday, May 5, 1962
(Written May 6) The pain in my back seemed to be getting worse
today, bothering me most of the day & covering a wider area
of my back. I began to wonder if our mattress might not be the
cause, since it has a sizeable sag at the spot where my hips lie.
Today I changed the mattress around, to see if this would be the
answer.
I studied at the library till 5, when it closed, but spent a depressed
evening. B was with her friend Maria, & I felt lonely for
her, especially now, when there are so many things we should talk
over. In particular, what am I to do this summer? B knows what
she'll be doing. Her internship program will begin as soon as
the semester is over. But whether or not I pass the exam, I'll
be at a loose end as soon as it is over (apart from marking TA
exams.) The last 2 summers have both been unpleasant for me. Both
have been spent here in Berkeley. I really need a change-but what
can I do? I takes a great effort to make such a break with my
accustomed surroundings. As I grow older, I seem to grow more
timid.
I tried to study, but couldn't, & eventually went down to
visit the Carrico household for a couple of hours.
B has received a $300 college loan for the summer, & says
she no longer has financial worries for the summer. This is a
big change in our relationship, since hitherto she's almost always
been financially dependent upon me to some (though of late a decreasing)
extent.
Sunday, May 6, 1962
11:30 p.m. Changing the mattress around seems to have been the
answer to my back problem. Today the pain was virtually gone.
How simple a solution!
Since learning of my success in the written exam 4 days ago, I
was subsequently remarkably light-hearted about my chances of
passing the oral, & thus finding myself, by the beginning
of next month, happily finished with Ph.D. exams. This morning,
however, something occurred which again shook my confidence, &
reminded me that it is just as likely as not that I will fail
the oral too on this first attempt, & thus have to wait another
7 or 8 months before being able to try it again. The incident
was a brief telephone call with Solomon Tesman, a fellow graduate
student, who took the written exam in April with me. It was his
first attempt, but he badly wanted to pass. Now he told me very
dejectedly that he had failed. At first my heart went out to him
in sympathy, & I felt at the same time how fortunate I was
to have passed. But then, shortly after hanging up, I suddenly
realized that in a few short weeks, my situation may once again
be almost the same as his. And such thoughts as this lead me to
lament how little work I have done, how little I seem to know
or at least remember, & how small my chances seem to be of
proving my worth to 5 men in 3 hours of oral questioning.
I talked at length with B this morning about the problems we face
during the coming months. The major one is really what form is
our relationship to take under the impending new conditions? Much
still remains to be settled before we can make definite plans.
Will I pass my oral? Will B accept the Richmond teaching offer
(it looks now as if she will)? Will we move from here? (The current
idea is for me to move, at least temporarily, & go on some
kind of summer trip while B tries to find some girl to share this
place with.)
Bill Moore, a graduate student acquaintance, who has already passed
his exams, is arranging a "mock oral" for me, to be
held here Thursday evening. I wonder if it will strengthen or
damage my confidence.
Monday, May 7, 1962
(Written May 8) I went to see 2 of the men who will be on my oral
examination committee. Watt, the professor of English, whose Modern
British Literature course I had last summer, & who will represent
my "outside field," said he would enable me in the exam
to discuss only the things I wanted to discuss, & gave me
the impression that, as far as he was concerned, I wouldn't have
much trouble. Chambers, the visiting asst prof in Recent U.S.
History , whom I hardly know, also seemed anxious to put me at
my ease, but I feel I didn't make a good impression on him. E.g.,
for some reason I emphasized my foreign background, & the
fact that I viewed U.S. history as an outsider.
I studied almost continuously from 3:30 to 11 p.m., which for
me is remarkable. But I have so much to do, & so little time,
& on how many days will I be able to work this well?
Still, I don't feel nearly as pessimistic & anxious about
the oral as I did about the written.
These matters are so capricious that I won't be at all surprise
now if I pass. But even if I fail, that won't be so very bad,
for then I'll have more time to do a good job of study-preparation
for my next attempt. It seems that in most of my projects (e.g.
flying) I am generally slower than the average person, but I usually
win through in the end.
Tuesday May 8, 1962
10:15 p.m. B TAKES TEACHING JOB. After several days of painful
indecision, B decided today to accept the job offered her by the
Richmond school district. She will be teaching English in their
main and oldest high school & will make $5200 a year. This
was the only offer she received until now, after at least 8 interviews
at different districts. There are many unattractive things about
the job. The pay is comparatively low. The school is old &
overcrowded. B would have preferred to teach Social Studies. The
only 2 things definitely in favor of taking the job were (1) its
location, which will make it convenient for us to continue living
in Berkeley and (2) the fact of the offer itself. If B hadn't
accepted it - the deadline was today - she might not have received
any other offers, or she might have had to accept something much
worse. I think I helped to make the decision a little easier for
her when we discussed it yesterday by reminding her that when
we had first been getting to know each other, she had told me
of her ideals to serve humanity, preferably by working with children
in some way. Here now there is obviously a great opportunity for
her to "serve."
So now B faces another very busy year. Almost as soon as the semester
is over (and she has yet to write a seminar paper, take 2 final
exams in literature, and an M.A. oral) her summer training under
the teaching internship program will begin. Then she will have
only a 2 week break before the high school semester begins in
September. And even when that school year is over, there will
be more internship courses next summer, before she can get her
credential. Meantime what will I be doing? That depends mainly
on whether or not I pass my oral this month.
Wednesday, May 9, 1962
(written May 10) Despite the imminence of my oral exam, I am still
not feeling sufficiently motivated to study at any steady high
intensity. I have a rough idea of the work I still want to do,
but at the present rate, I'll never get it all done. But does
it really matter anyway?
This morning I went talk with Dr. Lininger at the psychiatric
counseling center again. To my surprise, in the course of our
discussion concerning my exams, he indicated that he thought I
needed more extended psychotherapy than the college could offer.
This disturbed me. It was the same conclusion Dr. Fernandez had
come to, but I was somehow hoping Lininger would offer me more
hope. I don't like to be told I am mentally ill, even though I
really know it myself, and this came at a time when I may be on
the verge of an academic triumph. Nevertheless I said I'd be willing
to look into the possibilities of further treatment, & Lininger
will give me details of some psycho-analytical training center
in San Francisco which I may be able to afford.
This evening I went alone to see a very ghastly Polish film, "Kanal,"
about underground fighters in Warsaw driven into the sewers in
a last-ditch stand. It was brutally realistic and appallingly
pessimistic. Each fighter is doomed, and time & again hope
of reaching safety is turned into despair. For me, the most depressing
sequence of all involves the agonizing struggle of one young couple
(the man badly wounded) to make their way along the sewer to the
river, only to find when at last they reach it that their way
out of the sewer is solidly closed by iron bars.
On the same bill, I saw "The Informer," a picture made
in the 1930's, about Ireland in the troubles of the early 20's.
For me it was disappointing because the "hero," who
betrays a friend for 20 pounds, played by Victor McClaughlin,
I found a totally unsympathetic character - big, weak, stupid,
& mostly drunk.
Thursday, May 10, 1962
(Written May 11) This evening I had a novel & surprisingly
pleasant experience, a practice oral examination here in my home,
in which I was examined by 4 of my fellow graduate students -
Pete Shattuck (Colonial) & Bill Moore (English 19th Century)
whom I knew already, and Skip Hanson & Dick Laury (U.S. since
1890) whom I didn't know. Bill Moore organized the proceedings.
Whether or not I would have passes, I can't say, & my examiners
wouldn't say - but I found I was remarkably at ease. Many questions
revealed gaps in my knowledge & reading, & I had frequently
to say "I don't know," but many others enabled me to
show that I really did know quite a lot. Afterwards, some of my
mannerisms were criticized, e.g. not looking people in the eye.
B signed her teaching contract today, & learned that she will
make even less than she expected. Richmond pays interns only $4920
instead of $5200. B feels badly because interns in some other
districts will be making over $1,000 more than this, & almost
all will be making some hundreds more.
Friday, May 11, 1962
10:45 p.m. I learned today at the History office 2 important things
about my oral exam: (1) that it will probably be on June 4 at
1:30 p.m. (2) that a change has been made in my committee. Since
I got only a bare pass on the written exam, Mrs. Radke, the graduate
secretary had told me she would try to schedule my oral as late
as possible. But it seems Mr. Bridenbaugh, the Professor of Colonial
History, who is leaving the University after this semester &
who was to be on my committee, wants to get away early, so, instead
of him, I am to have Mr. Harper. I don't know if this is good
or bad for me. I did have an undergraduate course with Bridenbaugh,
but it seems he has a reputation for being nasty as an oral examiner,
and an incident occurred just this morning (before I got the news
from Mrs. Radke) which makes me feel perhaps the change is fortunate.
It happened that I had decided to go to a Bridenbaugh lecture
at 9 a.m. This is the second half of his year-course, of which
I had only the first half, & I thought it might do me some
good to hear him lecture about the Revolutionary period. I sat
at the front, & when he came in he saw me & said (privately)
"Do you think you're going to pass your oral by coming in
now for a lecture, Mr. Brilliant? You ought to be reading."
This surprised me, for I didn't even think he knew my name (I
have seen him in his office on a few widely spaced occasions).
I didn't know how to take it, but I stayed anyway (though it's
true this particular lecture was not of much value to me).
I spent all my study-time on colonial history today, reading a
chapter in Osgood for the first time.
My thoughts about the approaching exam continue to be mostly optimistic.
Somehow I feel the chances are in my favor. But I wish I could
study more, harder, & longer than I do.
Saturday May 12 1962
10:20 p.m. This was one of those rare days on which I found it
surprisingly easy to concentrate on my studies. My attention doesn't
wander, I understand what I am reading; and it has a real meaning
for me. I spent most of my time with The Age of Improvement, by
Asa Briggs, about 19th Century England. When I finished my B.A.
exams in London seven years ago, I hoped I was through with studying
history forever, especially English history. Yet here I am, "getting
it up" again. My real acquaintance with this field goes back
11 or 12 years, to my 6th Form studies at Hendon County School,
which have given me a remarkably good factual background.
Today our landlady Miss Hult had some important news for us: She
has sold the house, & she & her sister will be moving
out before the end of the month. The new owner, whom we haven't
yet met, is a woman who also owns other property. She intends
to continue the house as a rooming house, but I don't know whether
or not she will live here.
We have now been living here nearly 2 years. Miss Hult, a retired
school-teacher originally from Nebraska, has owned the house for
15 years. She says she & her sister are getting old, &
taking care of the place is becoming too much for them. They are
going to get an apartment somewhere. Miss Hult seemed pleased
& excited with her news. I have always been impressed at her
energy. Besides taking care of the house & garden (which includes
vacuuming our hallway & laundering our linen & towels
once a week) she seems to be active in community work, e.g. the
Unitarian Church & Democratic Party.
Considering my previous relations with landlords & managers,
our relations with Miss Hult have been remarkably happy &
free of friction, though not very close. I have always paid the
rent ($90), and now and then mow the lawn to earn a dollar's deduction
from it.
Things are still so uncertain with B & me that it is hard
to say what effect this sale of the house will or may have upon
us. One thing is clear, however - that it will be psychologically
easier for us to leave now, if we decide to do so. But I won't
be able to make any decisions about that until my oral is over.
But it is sad to reflect how insecure we are. Miss Hult, as I
told her, has been "our rock." But she is old, &
must pass on. She really has been about the best sort of landlady
we could desire. Although living in the same building (but in
a different part, with entrance on another street,) she has never
imposed or been inquisitive. On the other hand, she has always
been prompt & willing to meet our requests. The new owner
is an unknown quantity, but we feel almost sure that she will
not be as good as Miss Hult.
Sunday, May 13, 1962
11:55 p.m. I have had a cold for the last few days. Despite this,
however, the concentration ability which I noticed yesterday continued
today. I ought to have a name for this phenomenon. With me it
seems to be the exception rather than the rule. In general I find
it difficult to study. I lack interest & motivation. I get
depressed. I fritter time in a variety of ways. But every once
in a while there comes a time when the same work which formerly
bored me now almost fascinates me, & I become quite intensely
absorbed in it. The mood usually lasts only a few days, &
then departs as mysteriously as it came. If only it could last
now until my oral 3 weeks hence! But I know that is extremely
unlikely.
Monday, May 14 1962
10:25 p.m. My study progress continues good. I actually finished
a book today: Asa Briggs Age of Improvement. What I am trying
to do at present is cover both my minor fields in text-books.
Having done that, I'll probably spend the remainder of my time
before the oral "filling in" my knowledge as much as
possible, from notes, articles, anthologies, book reviews etc.
My cold continued today, & B has one too. I had to conduct
a section meeting with a very croaky voice.
Tuesday, May 15 1962
(Written May 16) My concentration wasn't nearly so good today.
I found myself reading the same sentences over & over again,
& got disappointingly little done.
But I did have interviews with 2 more of the men who are to examine
me orally on June 4. I saw Bean, who once again gave me the impression
of some fundamental emptiness or insincerity by his manner. And
I saw Harper for the first time, an old man who is replacing Bridenbaugh
on my board for the Colonial field. His manner was kindly, &
I had the feeling that he is probably a very good teacher. Neither
of these interviews shook my confidence that I stand a very good
chance of getting over this hurdle successfully. And it is very
pleasant to contemplate how delightful my situation will then
be. One direction my thoughts have been taking concerns my dissertation
& the possibility of regarding it as a book which I intend
to publish, thus combining 2 projects & goals - obtaining
the doctorate and becoming a successful author.
Steve Kern paid us a visit late this eve, & disrupted my bed-time
schedule.
Wednesday, May 16, 1962
11:00 p.m. I still have a cold, which may be dragging my vitality
down somewhat, & was able to work only moderately well today,
mainly reading Trevelyan on English 19th Century history.
B & I see very little of each other these days, & usually
sleep apart (colds, convenience etc.) This is academically a crucial
time for both of us. But B still manages to conduct quite an active
social life.
Thursday, May 17, 1962
11:20 p.m. My annoying cold still persisted, giving me a clogged
feeling & a stuffy forehead, but I pushed on with my work.
I now have finished textbook coverage of both of my minor fields
& will devote my remaining time to reading bits of books,
articles, notes, etc.
I am beginning to take some action concerning the question of
what I am going to do this summer. I don't want to have to make
any final decisions about it until my exam is over, but I feel
I should at least push out some feelers. Yesterday I sent a card
to Ron Anderson, a dairy farmer near Modesto whom I met at a party
2 months ago, & who said then that he could possibly use me
as help on his farm. I asked if the offer still held good. Today
I went to the college placement office & had an interview,
but the only result was a possible lead to a job as a "railroad
policeman" for the Santa Fe Railroad, which I haven't been
able to look into yet. I also sent a card of inquiry to "Cal
Lodge," which advertises that you can earn room & board
there by working there 4 hours a day. That sounds the best possibility
so far, since it is in the Sierras, & my idea is not to make
money but to get away to rural surroundings, & at least not
have to spend any money, but also get plenty of exercise.
Friday, May 18, 1962
11:55 p.m. Despite various physical ills (my cold still persists,
and that back pain, of which I complained on May 4 & 5 &
which I thought I had cured by changing the mattress, is recurring)
I was again able to keep my academic nose pretty well to the grindstone.
Usually I get little done in the morning, have lunch at home,
then go or return to the library about 2-3 p.m., & stay there
the rest of the day, eating a sandwich supper in my carel, till
10 or 11 p.m. If I can keep going at this pace, I will feel reasonably
well-prepared for the exam on June 4. I look forward to the exam
as a kind of game which I think it would be fun to play. How different
from my attitude towards the written exam!
But if I do pass the exam, I will find myself in a position so
unaccustomed that after the initial exhilaration I might very
well become depressed. For the past 2 ½ years these exams
have been my goal, virtually my raison d'etre. Now, apart from
the dissertation, I will be projectless.
I want time to think and indulge in a sense of freedom. I do not
want to find myself plunging back again into work on the dissertation
as another escape from reality. Yet I am afraid that that is what
will happen, that I will always feel that I am too busy living
to live.2
Saturday May 19 1962
12:15 a.m. After spending most of the day reading in Robert Sherwood's
Roosevelt and Hopkins, a much more enjoyable work than most of
those I've been reading lately, I decided (as usual, it was a
hard decision) to go to a movie this evening, & saw "Picnic"
and "On the Waterfront." I came out feeling good, &
wanting to talk. B was out with one of her boy friends, so I walked
over (from the Northside) to Allen's. The Carricos were away,
but Bill Pounds & his girlfriend Diane were there in bed together,
I sat in the bedroom talking to them & expounding my new optimistic
ideas concerning the present & the future of the world, how
this is now a better world than it has ever been, how the cold
war is an advance on all previous wars, how the space race is
bringing us closer to the essence of life.
Sunday, May 20, 1962
11:05 p.m. In the library from about 2-11 p.m., mostly reading
more of Sherwood's Roosevelt and Hopkins. I continued to feel
very optimistic about my chances of passing the oral.
B is at work on her last big seminar paper, for Sontag, &
as usual is enduring much anguish in the process. Somehow the
movie "Picnic," which I saw alone last night, made me
realize I have been neglecting B & should show her more affection
& attention, & I tried to do this today.
Monday, May 21, 1962
(Written May 22) A letter arrived today from Myrna which sounds
more "normal" than anything we have heard from or about
her since the fatal first of December. She does not mention her
pregnancy, except to ask that I donate a pint of blood to her
"credit" account in case she should need it. But she
does say that she has a new job & a new single apartment,
which makes everything sound as if, apart from the pregnancy,
she is resuming her old life as before. No mention of Ethel or
Dick. Another reassuring note is her mention for the first time
of the $50 I loaned her in December, & her intention to repay
it.
Many things have now been settled which at the beginning of the
year were highly uncertain. Apart from this apparent settlement
of Myrna's affair, it has been settled that B will be a teacher
next fall at Richmond High School, that I retain my teaching credential,
that I am not going to Africa this summer, but that I am through
forever with the Ph.D. written exam. Still unsettled are the question
of my U.S. citizenship, of whether or not I will get through the
oral exam in 2 weeks' time, and of how I will spend the summer.
Of course there will always be new problems and new settlements,
but the months since December have been particularly trying, and,
if I should pass the oral, the time to follow looks to me now
like a golden age.
I have now had brief interviews with all the 5 men who will be
examining me, & am beginning to worry rather more about how
the thing will go. But in general my confidence remains high,
& I expect to enjoy the experience.
Tuesday, May 22, 1962
12:10 p.m. This morning I conducted my last 2 T.A. section meetings
of the semester. The T.A. task has been a light one in recent
weeks, & I won't have to mark the final exams until my own
big exam is over. In general I have still found the mental burden
of preparing for the classes far greater than that of actually
conducting them. I am much more at ease now in the classroom than
I once was. Still, I wonder what the students have got out of
it all - but I have no way of knowing.
Hopeful & fearful thoughts about the exam chase each other
through my mind as I study for it.
I saw an excellent hour-long color film at college today about
the John Glenn orbital space flight last February.
Wednesday, May 23, 1962
11:20 p.m. The cold which began about May 10 with a slight sore
throat is still with me, now in what I hope is the final stage,
as a cough.
I feel an increasing impatience to get my oral exam over with.
The practice or which I had on May 10 was a great boost to my
confidence, which has been generally high ever since. It is hard
to know what to study at this stage, & I am spending much
time just reviewing notes.
Mr. May gave his last lecture of the semester today, & I conducted
my last office hour. Apart from marking a few papers, I have now
no more T.A. duties or any other commitments between now and my
exam on June 4. In theory I could give all the remaining time
to studying. But I'm afraid of "going stale."
Thursday, May 24, 1962
1:10 a.m. B & I both received official notification of our
oral exams today. Mine is to be June 4 at 9:30 a.m. B's, for the
M.A., is the next morning at 9 a.m.
B is in the last stages of her last seminar paper, a paper for
Sontag on Anglo-German relations 1933-35. As usual, she left the
writing till far too late, & is now absolutely frantic trying
to get it done in time, relying heavily upon me to edit her writing,
which today took the majority of my time. I tend to become resentful
as it becomes apparent just how much I am expected to do, almost
entirely because of B's inability to get started until the last
minute.
My back hurt me all day in the same place on the right side, &
my cough is still bothering me.
Friday, May 25, 1962
11:30 p.m. Since my back was still hurting me yesterday, I tried
sleeping last night on the floor (on a mattress) to see if that
would make any difference. Today the pain was indeed almost gone,
but I have now another theory as to what may be causing it. I
notice that when studying in my library carel, I sit in such a
way that the back of the chair presses my back at just about the
area which has been paining me. Since I sat there yesterday for
only a short time, that may explain why I had little pain today.
B's seminar paper crisis reached a climax today. The paper was
originally due last Tuesday. Then she got an extension to Thursday
(yesterday), then somehow another to today. By about 3p.m. today
she realized she couldn't do it. She was sitting for hours at
the typewriter without writing anything. I was supposed to edit
what she wrote & then the final copy was to be typed by her
friend Dianne, who lives in El Cerrito, & to whom I delivered
the first few pages yesterday. B was pale & looked really
sick. She kept complaining of how jittery & unwell she felt,
& occasionally wept about it. Finally this afternoon she went
to Prof. Sontag, & he apparently was quite sympathetic about
it, & told her she could make a formal petition (at a cost
of $4) which would enable her to have until June 7. After that
she cheered up; but all of this has had a very disturbing effect
upon me, & has temporarily made for bad relations between
us. B's distress was heightened by the fact that she has 2 final
exams on Monday for which she still has much reading to do.
I discovered today a third former Hollywood High School student
of mine now a student here at UC. His name is Baldur Retz. I have
no memory of him at all, & wouldn't have recognized him, but
he told me today that he remembered me quite well, though he couldn't
remember anything about the class he was in, or even which class
it was. I have looked him up, & find he was in the 10B English
class. It was only 4 years ago, but I have forgotten all but a
few of those kids by now.
Saturday, May 26, 1962
1:45 a.m. It is becoming customary with me to seek a movie once
a week. Today there was nothing good playing locally, but I went
to Allen's & watched the British picture "Rommel: Desert
Fox," on TV - not nearly as good as I expected, but still
interesting. There is much about the Nazi era which I find fascinating.
One reason, I suppose, is that it is the most recent example of
a great lost cause.
I continue to feel impatient about my exam, & feel now that
I'd be glad to take it & get it over with tomorrow.
Sunday, May 27, 1962
10:15 p.m. Seven days of solid study lie ahead of me, and then
comes the oral. I don't like the prospect of a week of unbroken
work, but don't know how to change it. The exam right now seems
to be my only raison d'etre. I must be as well-prepared for it
as I possibly can be. There are of course an infinite number of
things I could read. But review is now the most important thing.
My confidence is still very high, and I think I would pass right
now. But it's very hard to put my mind to anything else in the
remaining week. Today I was in the library about 8 ½ hours,
& finally began to feel very fatigued.
Monday, May 28, 1962
1:15 a.m. My exam-confidence was shaken somewhat today by hearing
of someone else in my field, named Alexander, failing their oral
today. It is surprising how much such tidings can affect me right
now. I decided to go for a walk, which turned into a short hill-hike
on the north side of campus, at the top of which I sat down &
wrote myself a consoling pep-talk.
I am not going to accomplish anywhere near all I would like to
do between now & Monday. But I do the best I can, & hope
it all helps.
Tuesday, May 29, 1962
12:30 a.m. B has been going through her usual end-of-semester
panic, & went about 48 hours with only 4 hours sleep. Today
she had her last final exam, but she still has to finish her seminar
paper, take her M.A. oral, & then mark blue-books as a reader
for Prof. Angress. We have spent very little time with each other
for weeks now. What our future together will be it is hard to
say, but I suppose we will gradually work out some new & more
stable relationship.
I received a reply today to my inquiry concerning an offer I saw
advertised of room & board at the University's lodge in the
Sierras in return for 4 hours work per day. From the manager's
letter, it sounds as if mine was the only inquiry they received.
The position is open, the job would be cutting wood, & I'm
invited to bring a friend, since there's work enough for 2. The
only 2 drawbacks are (1) the job doesn't start till July, &
I was hoping for something sooner, & (2) I don't like the
idea of working alone if I can't get anyone to come with me. I
did write to Larry today, to see if he would be interested.
My exam confidence revived somewhat today. My studying is very
disorganized. I have general projects, e.g. review certain notes,
go through a certain text, dip into a certain work briefly, but
I end up doing what I feel like, & much doesn't get done at
all. Still, I think it is my psychological preparedness which
is the most important thing. I believe I can put up a good show,
even though I may not have read all the books, & may not know
all the answers.
Wednesday, May 30, 1962
10:20 p.m. B & I made love this afternoon, for the first time
in weeks, and it was very enjoyable. It symbolizes a time of closeness,
after a time in which, though living in the same house, we have
been largely separated.
But work must still come first, for both of us. Yet how different
our situation will be just one short week from now. The uncertainty
of my exam is an abominable burden. If only I can pass now, and
get this one big settlement made. I know I won't be content for
long; but for a little while, I think I will taste of paradise.
Thursday, May 31, 1962
11:25 p.m. With time running short, my studies are picking up
in intensity. I'm finding it easier to work & get more done.
At the same time, I am not oppressed by any desperate sense of
urgency. I am really looking forward to the oral, & believe
it will be an enjoyable experience. I feel now that I will be
quite well prepared for it. As I study, my understanding seems
now to deepen. Maybe it all really does mean something!
I felt generally in high spirits today, & B was too, &
kept telling me how much she loves me, & how well I compare
with all her other male friends (one of whom, George, she is out
with this evening.) She is becoming more excited about her forthcoming
teaching job & training. Today she learned her training will
be at Berkeley High School, and brought home a load of books she
will be teaching from next semester, which includes one reader,
Adventures In American Literature, that I used at Hollywood High
School.
If I pass my exam on June 4, our future will look brighter than
it ever has before.
Friday, June 1, 1962
11:50 p.m. My high spirits continue, & I had many happy thoughts
today about how pleasant things will be if I pass my exam on Monday.
A letter from Myrna today wishing me luck says that her "D-day"
i.e. the date when the delivery of her baby is expected, is October
4. It is hard for me to imagine Myrna actually pregnant, but somehow
it is less hard to imagine her as unmarried than married.
If it seems to the reader that there is much that I do not mention
in here, it is because my present policy is to concentrate upon
those things with which I am particularly concerned at the moment,
and of course at present my exam is the chief of these. It looms
much larger in my thinking than family affairs, world events,
or anything else.
Saturday, June 2, 1962
11:30 p.m. One more day to live through, & then my big moment
will come. Will it be my triumph, or merely another anti-climax?
B heard yesterday that Goldberg, who failed in December when I
did, & passed with a bare pass in May, just as I did, failed
his oral. But I have heard more about passes than about failures,
& my hopes & expectations remain pretty high. Most of
the work I intended to do by now I have accomplished. I wish I
had read more books more thoroughly, & that my factual knowledge
were more disciplined, but on the whole I think I have prepared
myself quite well.
Sunday, June 3, 1962
11 p.m. It was only this evening for the first time that I began
to feel really nervous about tomorrow's oral, & a little bit
fearful that at the crucial time all my painfully accumulated
knowledge will slip away from me, & I'll find myself with
nothing to say. But on the whole, I am still fairly calm &
cheerful.
I studied at the library from about 1:30 to 8 p.m., & it was
about 6p.m that the jitters began to get me, making my studies
in the remaining 2 hours considerably more difficult. I hadn't
even wanted to work that late, but I did want to have read over
all my notes at least once.
This morning I helped B some more on her seminar paper, though
rather resentfully because she makes it only too plain how much
she depends on me. She wasn't here when I came home this evening
- I presume she is at her friend Diane's, who is typing the paper.
I spent my time pleasantly listening to records & baking a
chocolate cake.
Monday, June 4, 1962
10:30 p.m. MADE IT! Incredible as it still seems, I am now actually
living on the other side of the greatest hurdle I have ever successfully
crossed.
My Ph.D. oral exam took place at 9:30 this morning, in Mr. Chambers'
office, 3108 Dwinelle Hall. My examiners were Chambers and Bean
(for U.S. since 1890), Harper (for American to 1789), Marshall
(for Britain 1815-1914) and Watt (for my "outside field,"
which I had thought was to be American & British Literature,
but which turned out to be only British.) The exam lasted less
than 2 hours, with each man questioning me for 20 minutes (closely
timed) and a "general" period at the end. When it was
over, I was sent out into the hall, where B was waiting for me.
This waiting period lasted about 20 minutes, & it was the
only really unpleasant part of the experience. When I left the
office, I felt quite confident that I was going to pass, but as
the minutes dragged by & I paced up & down, I became more
& more worried & agitated. It was therefore an extreme
relief when Mr. Chambers came out, took my hand, & said "Well,
you've passed - congratulations." After shaking hands with
me, all the other examiners left, & Chambers told me that
it was a clearly unanimous decision, although they did not think
I had done very well, & had decided, as on my written, to
give me once again a "bare pass," and a grade of B for
the 12 units of private study which they call History 299.
The exam itself was, as I expected, quite a pleasant experience.
Chambers told me afterwards that they made allowance for the fact
that I seemed very nervous. But actually I was not nervous, not,
that is, in a bad sense. I was simply myself in one of my highly
excited moods.
The questioning was in general such as to allow me great leeway
in my answers, of which I took every advantage. I must have presented
a picture of great confusion, & was quite incapable of serious
intense logical analysis of any particular problem. On the other
hand, I demonstrated that I had done a lot of reading, had quite
wide factual knowledge, and was familiar with many different ideas.
In addition, I think I showed a great deal of interest and enthusiasm,
particularly in certain areas like Wilson, World War I, &
Prohibition. I was often vague, inaccurate, unsound, but at least
I could keep talking.
The actual subjects covered in the exam are not really important
to me - they never have been. The only important thing is that
I got through.
For several hours afterwards, I had little time to think about
what it all meant, because I was busy helping B finish up her
eternal seminar paper, which included a visit with her to her
friends Charles & Diane Davis, where the final copy was being
typed by Diane. Finally at 9 p.m., while B was studying in the
library for her own M.A. oral exam, about which she is now extremely
nervous, I delivered her paper in person to Professor Sontag's
home. Then I visited the Carricos to share my joy, & came
home, where Steve Kern hugged me when he heard my good news; he
stayed to discuss European History with B, since he himself is
having an exam in it tomorrow. The next day he is leaving to spend
the summer in Europe, where he'll see Hartley & Marge.
I am sure B will pass her exam tomorrow (I haven't yet heard of
anyone flunking an M.A. oral) but I am not so sure that she will
receive the recommendation to proceed towards the Ph.D., which
she wants to receive, even though she doesn't intend to go on.
As I see them at the moment, the chief implications of today's
success for me are these: (1) a great psychological boost. At
last, after years of apparently achieving nothing, I have a solid
success behind me. In many ways this alters my whole feeling about
life. (2) a certain status higher than I have ever known before,
though I can't see what advantages that is likely to bring me
in itself. (3) In effect, I now have a new profession. I have
passed the major qualification to be a college teacher. (4) Farewell
to studying for exams, which has been my major occupation for
a whole year. From now on, being a student will for me mean being
a research worker & a writer, & I have yet to explore
the possibilities here. (5) At last, a little "nachos"
for my parents, & a reason for B to take pride in me (6) New
& better job opportunities - ultimately, more money (7) a
kind of triumph over my own weaknesses & over an academic
system which I hate. Now I'll be able to attack it from the inside.
But at what cost has all this been achieved? I am 28 years old,
& where actually am I? But such thoughts as this have little
place in my mind at present. I really am very happy with the way
things are working out.
Tuesday, June 5, 1962
(Written June 6) This was the day of B's M.A. oral exam. Even
after passing mine yesterday, there could be little let-up in
tension for me until B's was over. Her field was modern European
History, I think since 1870. Her examiners were Angress, Sontag,
& Webster, of whom she knows the first 2 quite well. The M.A.
exams last only an hour, & hers was at 9 a.m. in Angress'
office. She was very nervous, & had indeed done very little
preparation specifically for this exam, since she was busy right
up to yesterday finishing her seminar paper. I stood outside the
room from about 9:50, & could hear snatches of what was going
on. It sounded to me as if B were not doing well. There were long
pauses, & the examiners seemed to be doing most of the talking.
When she came out, however, she did not seem unhappy. By that
time her friend Harold Morin, who recently passed his M.A., had
also come to join the watch. The 3 of us waited about 10 minutes,
until Angress called B back in, telling her she had passed.
B was not given a recommendation to proceed with further work
toward the Ph.D., & thus received what is called a "terminal
M.A." I had thought she would be very disappointed at this,
but she wasn't. In any case, it makes no practical difference,
since (a) she didn't intend to go on, & (b) if she did, it
would be at some other college where the restriction would not
apply. She was also consoled by the fact that 2 of her best friends,
Maria Trumpfer (sp ?) and Charlene Hersh both surprisingly failed
their orals.
B, Harold, & I next all strolled happily down to the Western
Union office on Shattuck, where I sent a message to my parents
saying simply "BOTH PASSED" & signed ASHBARB. At
about midnight, B & I received a reply, "CONGRATULATIONS
OVERJOYED."
The three of us had lunch in Yale's delicatessen. I was in a very
exuberant mood. It was so pleasant to be able to be leisurely.
B's work & mine for the semester was however not yet over.
We still had to grade blue-books for our respective jobs. For
B this is much harder & more time-consuming than for me, since
she is marking the exams of people she doesn't know, & she
doesn't even know their previous grades in the course. I can often
assign a grade after hardly glancing at the paper, so long as
I can be reasonably certain that the student will probably feel
that it is the grade he deserved. So because of this job, B &
I still weren't able to spend much time together & begin talking
over our plans & problems. Instead, B spent the evening marking
papers in the library, and I did a variety of small jobs at home,
including letters & postcards announcing the good news. By
bed-time, we were both very tired, since neither of us had had
much sleep last night.
Wednesday, June 6 1962
2:10 p.m. Myrna wrote several weeks ago & asked if I would
donate a pint of blood to her credit, since she has been asked
to have a pint on reserve in case a transfusion is necessary when
her baby is born in October. I promised I would do it when my
exams were over, & yesterday made an appointment for 10 a.m.
today at the blood-bank. It was the third time I had donated blood,
but I know that such experiences as these (including blood tests)
tend to have unpleasant physical effects upon me, so I asked B
to come with me. It was a good thing she did, for this time I
actually fainted after it was over. I was sitting alone with B
in a sort of resting-room they have there, drinking some orangeade
& eating a cookie. Suddenly I felt myself blacking out, &
said to B "I feel like I'm going to pass out." I then
seemed to enter some wild dream, and emerge on the other side
of death, where I was a stranger, totally lost and alone. There
were people about me, & I said "What happened?"
They were laying me down on the sofa, putting my feet up on the
wall, & a cold cloth on my forehead. B was there, & a
nurse & a doctor. The doctor stayed & talked with me &
B for some time, about fainting, blood transfusions, & his
fears about the population explosion. I still felt weak, even
when we came home (B driving). B made me some lunch, & I lay
a long time on the couch listening to records. Now I feel better,
but not even yet fully recovered.
This was only the third time in my life that I have fainted. The
first time was in 1956, when watching a film of an operation.
The second was in January of last year, just after my appendicitis
operation, when reading an illustrated article about that operation.
This is the first occasion when the cause does not appear to have
been primarily psychological. Once again the experience makes
me have many strange thoughts about the nature of consciousness,
which, after all, is the only really precious aspect of life.
I often take consolation in the thought that, if forced consciously
to face imminent death, I would probably faint, & thus cheat
all my fears.
11:15 p.m. At 3:15 I went for a last interview to Dr. Lininger.
His conclusion concerning me is that my major & basic problem
is that of establishing my identity, and orienting my life around
long-term goals. He feels I need additional psycho-analytic help,
& has given me the names of a couple of analysts who may help
me to get such help at a price I can afford. But I am also coming
to feel that the idea of a half-working vacation at Cal Lodge
in the Sierras might do me some good.
This eve at last I had a chance to go for a walk & start talking
with B about some of our problems. She says her present desire
is to have the experience of rooming by
herself or living with one other girl. This should be easy to
arrange, if I leave here temporarily.
Thursday, June7 1962
(Written June 8) Today I went on a hike with Harold Morin, who
has been B's friend at school all this year, & whom I am now
hoping to make mine too. We went straight up & over the Berkeley
Hills to Tilden Park & Lake Anza, then came back by way of
Spruce & Euclid Streets. We left about 10:20 & didn't
get back until nearly 5, & were most of the time actually
on the move. Again I did most of the talking, chatting quite freely
about my ideas & problems & past history, but not talking
much about Barbara.
Harold is 25, the son of East European immigrants who are in the
hardware & furniture business in Boston. He has a twin sister
& one brother. He has been to Harvard, & is studying Slavic
history & culture. He is tall & thin, & looks immature.
He was in the Air Force for 9 months, doing an office job at the
Pentagon in Washington D.C. He hasn't been abroad. He seems somewhat
lacking in self-confidence - or at least he is not as assertive
in conversation as I was.
There was much to enjoy on the hike - the open air, the exertion,
but somehow I didn't get a feeling of companionship.
This evening was my first big dinner-&-show date with B for
a long time, our celebration of our success. We went to a Russian
restaurant called Luchini's, where she had been once before, ordering
beef stroganoff, & then to see an English comedy film, Peter
Sellers in "Only Two Can Play," which was enjoyable
though not quite as good as I had hoped.
Friday, June 8, 1962
11:40 p.m. This was officially the last day of the semester, but
my plans for the future are still uncertain. This morning was
our final T.A. meeting, at which course grades were recorded.
I hardly looked at the final examinations of my students, but
simply based their grade on their record & what I thought
they ought to get & what they probably expected. I gave few
A's & mostly B's.
Then I went to see Mr. Bean, my "major professor," whose
job it is going to be to supervise (as head of a committee of
3, the other 2 yet to be chosen) the writing of my dissertation.
This was my first contact with him since the oral exam on Monday,
about which we said hardly anything. I had been looking forward
for a long time to being able to turn my attention to the problem
of writing a thesis, & I now made it plain to Mr. Bean that,
before I make any commitment, I want to understand just what is
expected of me, & how much leeway I am allowed. I received
the impression that he is quite liberal in these matters, learning
that, to his way of thinking anyway, a typical Ph.D. thesis is
to be regarded as a person's first draft of his first book. It
is generally about 300 pages long, & takes about a year to
write. The only possibility for a topic we discussed is the one
I originally suggested, concerning the impact of the automobile
upon California in the 1920's. While talking, we had lunch together
in his office, (buying the food at the Dwinelle snack-bar.)
Next I went up to the Bancroft Library to see if I could obtain
desk-space there. I had never used that library before, &
only been in it a couple of times. But if I am to be working in
California History, it will be my main headquarters. When I went
up to the desk & explained my position & request, mentioning
that I had just passed my Ph.D. orals, that I was going to be
writing my thesis in California History, and that I was a student
of Mr. Bean's, I was taken aside by Mr. Tompkins (?) who I think
is the head librarian there, & who proceeded to give me quite
a lecture (he called it a "sermon") on the rules &
regulations concerning use of the Library & stack privileges.
He sounded almost like a satire of the librarian who is supposed
to be more concerned about the safety of his books than about
the reader's convenience. Nevertheless I listened carefully, asked
intelligent questions, & was eventually admitted to the sanctum
of the stacks & assigned a desk (D-15). I charged out a few
books just to get used to the system. All the stack desks are
open, typing is permitted, & apparently there is quite a lot
of socializing. I'm worried therefore about my chances of being
able to do good concentrated work there without distraction, especially
since you can't take the books home.
This evening I went with B to the YWCA, where she had a job as
a sort of receptionist for a women's club which was using the
building for a meeting. She had to open up, clear up, & close
up. While the meeting went on in another room, we sat & played
chess. It was very pleasant, especially since tea & cake &
magazines were available. I won a quick first game in which we
didn't talk much, but in the second one we started analyzing our
moves in advance, & B won.
Saturday, June 9 1962
(Written June 10) This afternoon I went with B to San Jose to
visit her parents. It was the first time I had seen them since
December 30, & all seems to be fairly well with them. Rose
came (after considerable persuasion) to a store called Livingston's
in Palo Alto, where B wanted to buy a dress for teaching in. Since
I owed her a birthday present, I had offered to pay $15 towards
the price of the dress. She tried on 5 or 6, & fortunately
found one that pleased her, which was comparatively "reasonably"
priced at $16.62. The experience was comparatively painless. We
came back to S.J., where "Dad" had a ham supper waiting
for us, which was remarkably good.
I telephoned Ben & Geri Zlataroff, who now live in a cottage,
part of a ranch in the hills near Milpitas, & we went to visit
them there for the first time. It was quite a pleasant visit,
especially a walk I took with Ben along the hill-road. It was
remarkably peaceful there, & the air smelled good.
Sunday, June 10, 1962
11:40 p.m. Today I began to suffer my first signs of moodiness
since my exam success on Monday. My elation, after all, could
not last indefinitely. The pleasure in the thought of having passed
& being able to relax now yields to a slight dissatisfaction
in the question of what comes next, & the realization that,
after all, I am still the same, and my circumstances & basic
problems are still pretty much the same as they were before.
I spent the day mostly at home with B, talking, doing little tidying-up
jobs, shopping, writing letters, eating. Towards evening I began
to feel quite restless, & finally called Harold Morin, &
we, after some searching, found a place to play table-tennis,
with me winning every game.
My immediate concerns now are what kind of a holiday to take,
if I am going to take any, and what settlement is to be made with
B about our living arrangement.
Monday, June 11 1962
Midnight. That table-tennis I played with Harold yesterday must
really have taken a lot out of me, for I found it impossible to
rise as early as I wanted to this morning, & eventually slept
until 11 a.m.
Letters came from my parents & Ethel Ewens, both of which
urged me to go & see Myrna in Los Angeles. B & I therefore
decided today to drive down on Friday, though the prospect is
at this point not particularly appealing to either of us. I wrote
to Elaine & Andy Heinsius in North Hollwood, hoping we'll
be able to stay there. We took B's car in to Steve the mechanic's
for a check-up.
This evening I was invited with B to a dinner given by Harold
Morin and his room-mate Charles. The only other guest was Helen,
a friend of Charles. I hadn't met Charles or Helen before, &
am not sure why I was invited, but it was a very pleasant evening,
with a good meal of meat stew which Charles made, & lemon
meringue pie, which B made & brought. I was in quite a sociable
mood. Both Harold & Charles are students of Russian. The most
interesting feature of the conversation was a clash between me
with my condemnation of the weaknesses which subject people to
alcohol & tobacco etc., & Helen with her defense of Hedonism.
B had a medical examination this morning in connection with her
application for a teaching credential, & was told that she
was slightly anemic, with an iron deficiency in her blood. We
immediately bought some ferrous sulphate pills, which she must
take 3 times a day.
Tuesday, June 12 1962
10:45 p.m. Gradually my outlook is changing. Each day I turn a
little more definitely away from the past which ended on June
4, and towards a future which has really not yet begun to take
shape. For the first time since June 4, I tried to organize my
thoughts on paper today, & began to realize how comparatively
free I now am, yet how incapable I am of making any constructive
use of that freedom, until I am more clear about my long term
goals.
Also today I began reading a book for the first time since June
4 (in the interim I have felt unwilling to begin anything longer
tan an article or short story). It is William L. Shirer's The
Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, a current best-seller, which
satisfies my craving for more information about the Nazi era.
But all through the day I have been bothered by the pain on the
right side of my back, which has been troubling me for the past
6 weeks. I really don't know what to do about it. The doctor I
saw on May 3 could find nothing wrong. I feel pretty sure that
the pain has to do with my customary sedentary posture. It seems
to bother me more when I am at home leaning over a table. I scarcely
notice it when out of doors. The best answer seems to be a change
of physical life, such as offered by a working holiday at Cal
Lodge. But it takes time for me to get into gear on another project.
Today I spent all day at & about home, doing laundry, writing
letters, reading, etc., even though I had a chance this evening
to go to a party B is giving with some of her History Dept. friends
in a nearby apartment.
Wednesday, June 13, 1962
11:50 p.m. I am showing various symptoms of demoralization, including
an early fatigue at night, & an inability to get up early
in the morning.
But I did accomplish one important thing today - I got my car
going again. I hadn't used it in so long that the battery had
completely run down. I had to call the Auto Club to get it started,
then drive to Sears in Oakland where the battery was guaranteed.
They had already changed this battery for me a few months ago,
at the cost of $1. This time they found a weak cell. Since only
17 months of the 30-month guarantee had expired, they gave me
a pro-rata deduction on a new battery, which thus cost me only
$6.52, about half the full price. I was delighted to have my car
running again - this always gives me a psychological lift. I immediately
went to a service station, to fill it up with gas, oil, air, &
water, & to clean all of the windows both inside & out,
& to vacuum -clean the inside with a machine provided there.
I then went to visit the Carrico's - it was about 3 p.m. -- &
finished up spending the rest of the day with them, talking with
Myra & helping her mow the back lawn, having supper with her
& Allen & baby Glenn, watching TV with them, then taking
all 3 of them on a tour of the University Student Union facilities,
& finishing up here in our apartment. This last part of the
day was the least pleasant, for the baby began to get on my nerves.
Barbara had been spending the day in San Jose, & when she
arrived home about 10 p.m. she was hungry & not in a very
good mood, & took it out on me & the Carricos after I
had taken them home. We are still planning to go to Los Angeles
on Friday, but are not on very good terms with each other right
now, (I being too tired to try to reach an accord with her.)
My back continued to trouble me throughout the day, but I noticed
it more when I was alone.
Thursday, June 14, 1962
11:40 Today was clouded by friction with B, especially unfortunate
since we are due to go on our trip to Los Angeles tomorrow. Her
period is approaching, & this probably accounts for her bad
mood & generally negative attitude toward the trip, leaving
me to make all the preparations, and saying repeatedly that she
really doesn't want to go at all.
Only by sitting down & talking our problems out could we have
reached any settlement, but she was too busy to do this, although
we did have a financial meeting. She had to go to an art exhibition
(the not too impressive works of David Park) so I went along.
Then she had to hurry home to set her hair to go out to a play
at which she was ushering with a girl-friend. I got her to agree
to be ready by 7 a.m. to leave on our journey, but she has made
no preparations so far, & isn't even home yet. This is all
very unfortunate, & I can only hope that on our long ride
together tomorrow things will get straightened out.
I spent the evening at my usual meticulous & laborious preparations
for a journey, disliking all the work & details, but not seeing
how I could comfortably avoid them. My back continues to give
me trouble, & in fact hurts much more after all my work this
eve.
A letter from Andy & Elaine Heinsius, in reply to mine, says
we can stay with them in L.A.
I thought seriously of going to a doctor today about my back,
even though with the semester, & thus my eligibility for free
treatment at the University Hospital over, it will now cost money;
but I decided against it, hoping the trouble will at length clear
up by itself.
Friday, June 15 1962
10 p.m We have arrived in Los Angeles, & it is my first visit
here in 2 ½ years. Although originally intending to leave
at 7 a.m., we didn't depart until 8:20. We reached her about 9:30
p.m.
We travelled in B's Dodge (Steve the mechanic advised us to take
it in preference to my Nash). Our only automotive mishap was fortunately
not serious, but cost us $5. At a gas station in Ventura, an attendant
pointed out that a rear tire was in bad & dangerous condition
(a piece had actually come off it, exposing the tube). We reluctantly
agreed, & paid $5 for another tire.
We ate our sandwich lunch in San Luis Obispo, & stopped to
walk about the University of California campus near Santa Barbara,
located right by the ocean.
We discussed many of our problems, in the first official family
meeting in 3 months, but the agenda was so lengthy that we covered
only about half of it, & did not even get up to discussing
this trip itself, in particular the financial aspects which so
often give us trouble.
But our relationship did improve greatly over yesterday's low,
& the advent of B's menstrual period today confirmed my theory
that much of her recent moodiness was of physical origin.
My back hurt a great deal this morning, as it did last night,
but after driving for an hour or 2 it improved, & has given
me no pain or trouble since then at all.
Elaine & Andy were not home when we arrived, & haven't
yet come, but they left a key under a mat so that we could get
in, & are waiting now (10:20) in their living room for them.
I telephoned Myrna from here, & arranged to come & see
her tomorrow.
Saturday, June 16, 1962
1:20 a.m. B & I spent the whole day with Myrna, & both
have emerged with impressions of a kind of disgust mingled with
incredulity. This resulted from the fact that Myrna, despite the
fact that within the last 8 months, she has had a wild "love
affair" & is now expecting a baby in October, seems not
in the slightest degree changed either physically or mentally
since we saw her last, which must now be about 2 years ago. She
looks and talks just the same. Her ideas & values & interests
appear completely unaltered. The only thing which has changed
is her situation, but even that is remarkably similar to what
it was before. She lives in a $650 a month single apartment on
Berendo. She has a job as a receptionist which she dislikes, but
which she never tires of talking about. She has no car at present,
but is planning to get one as soon as she can afford it. She is
renting a television set for $15 a month.
She has definitely decided that she never wants to see her baby,
& it will thus be adopted right away. So her present condition
is only a kind of "sickness" which will be cured by
an "operation" sometime in October. She is not at all
interested in what is happening to her. Her main interest is in
her financial situation, and she claims she intends to pay back
all the debts she incurred during her wild period with Dick, amounting
to over $1000. She says she was in love with him, but is not now,
because he deserted her. About our mother's journey, Myrna apparently,
despite her hostile attitude at the time, is sorry Mother didn't
stay longer, since it would then have become more readily apparent
whether or not Dick really intended to marry her.
It was really a terrible disappointment to find so little change
in Myrna. Somehow I had assumed, right from the start of her affair
last December, that, whatever else happened, she could never be
the same person again.
But there was one significant thing which occurred to me today
that I had never noticed before - and that is how very much alike
Myrna and my mother are, especially in their love of talking endlessly
& inconsequentially about people they know, but also in a
certain emotional blankness an intellectual emptiness.
We drove to Claremont, which I wanted to nostalgically revisit,
& share with B, but Myrna's presence & remarks spoiled
much of this. Still, we walked around the colleges (I re-met Dr.
King in Harper Hall) had a good dinner at the Claremont Inn, and
went to a show by the Mexican Players at the Padua Hills Theater,
so the day was well-filled.
Sunday, June 17, 1962
2 a.m. B & I spent all day with Andy & Elaine Heinsius
at whose home in the San Fernando Valley we are staying, but we
weren't alone with them most of the time. Most of the day was
taken up with an expedition to Knott's Berry Farm, where I had
never been before, on which the 4 of us were accompanied by a
cousin of Andy's named Irene, & 4 children.
I felt rather moody for much of the time, for various reasons,
including a feeling that I wasn't accomplishing anything, (what
I really wanted to do most was contact Ethel about Myrna, but
this was postponed in a phone conversation until tomorrow), the
distraction & irritation of the children, the large crowds
at the "Farm," which is really a large amusement park
based primarily on the theme of Western Americana, but with all
sorts of commercial addenda, the high price ($2.25) of our meal
- the famous Knott's Berry Farm chicken dinner, which, however,
was quite good - the lining up to get into the restaurant, &
the poor service. I hadn't really wanted to go on this whole excursion,
which included a flat tire on the freeway, & I only began
to get into the spirit of it this evening, after our meal, when
it was coming to an end.
Coming home & being able to talk quietly with Andy for a while
on a serious level was probably the best part of the day for me.
Elaine is expecting a baby in about 2 weeks.
Monday, June 18, 1962
1:15 a.m. Today's principle event was the conversation B &
I had with Ethel Mae Ewens about Myrna. Ethel, whom I only vaguely
remembered from my own days in L.A., has made herself Myrna's
"fairy godmother," and is extremely tolerant of her
shortcomings. She says she loves Myrna, but she does not seem
to understand her any better than we do. She recounted to us the
whole story of Myrna's affair, & emphasized what she apparently
considered Myrna's shocking proclivities toward drinking &
"picking up" men. She also suggested in the course of
our conversation -- & it was the first time I had ever heard
anybody make such a suggestion - that Uncle Marsh, who is currently
out of town, has strong homosexual tendencies.
Later Ethel insisted on taking us & Myrna out to dinner at
a Jewish restaurant. The upshot of the whole experience was only
a reinforced feeling that Myrna is in good hands, & doesn't
need any help from me.
Going for a walk by myself, I decided that, with the "Myrna-Ethel
Mission" accomplished, I had no particular reason for wanting
to stay longer in L.A., & would in fact be willing to start
back for Berkeley tomorrow. B was agreeable.
Tuesday, June 19, 1962
(Written June 20) Today we returned from Los Angeles to Berkeley.
Since we got a late start, & the car can't go much over 50
mph & we made several stops, we didn't get home until about
2:30 a.m.
In Los Angeles, the day was extremely hot & smoggy. Everything
seemed bathed in a grey murk. It was very oppressive to the eyes,
the nostrils, & the lungs. (Every time I tried to take a deep
breath, I started coughing.) This atmosphere made us quite miserable,
but B wanted to see Forest Lawn, the famous cemetery, which is
also a showplace of art & ballyhoo. So, after parting from
Andy & Elaine, we went there, but B soon decided it disgusted
her ( the weather probably affected her mood.) It occurred to
me for the first time that places like Disneyland, Knott's Berry
Farm, & Forest Lawn all have much in common, especially in
their continual adding of new features to attract the public.
Our drive home began about 1:15 p.m. We stopped for fish &
chips in Ventura, & visited Solvang for the first time, to
have Danish pastries & tea. We had a cheap but very poor quality
dinner in a truckers' café in King City. (We drove along
101, the same route we took going down.) The weather was hot everywhere,
except right along the coast, where it was misty; but fortunately
we soon left the L.A. smog far behind. It seems incredible that
people can live in such an atmosphere. I don't know whether or
not today was an unusually bad day, & I can't remember it
being that bad when I lived there.
On the whole trip, we drove 1040.8 miles, & the car behaved
very well. B's Dodge is really a good car - burns very little
oil, & got us 17.6 miles per gallon, costing us about 1.7
cents per mile. My total expenses were $35, B's about $10.
The trip was notable principally for the number of good meals
we had, and for the fact that, as far as Myrna, the major object
of the trip, was concerned, it was a success. I think she was
really sorry that we didn't stay longer. She enjoyed our company.
Wednesday, June 20, 1962
(Written June 21) Today was a sort of pleasant relaxation after
the exertions of our trip. But I am still concentrating on short-term
jobs, & feeling uneasy about the coming weeks for which no
definite plans have yet been made.
Most of my jobs concern getting things repaired & running
- B's spare tire, my typewriter, my car (which, to my great vexation,
would not start today, after I bought a new battery just a week
ago). The agonizing thing is that these things seem to get out
of order faster than I can get them fixed. E.g. our record-player,
which less than 3 months ago I paid $27 to have repaired, is once
again giving trouble. Fortunately the guarantee still holds, so
I will take it back.
I wrote a letter to my parents, a report on the Myrna situation,
emphasizing how well-adjusted M seems to be.
This evening B & I tried something we had been contemplating
for a long time. We met together in the College Art Projects room,
& the intention was that we would both paint at the same time.
I had a painting to finish which I started last month. But B's
interest & enthusiasm were low. She took long to get started,
& kept complaining about lack of inspiration & the poor
quality of what she was doing, & wanted to leave after an
hour. I managed to keep her for 2 hours, but then she left, &
I continued on mine alone. I suppose & hope that this idea
of doing art work together is still a good one, but it takes time
to get going.
Thursday, June 21, 1962
(Written June 22) For most of the day, I felt in a generally pleasant
& relaxed mood, as I continued doing small jobs, e.g. writing
a letter to my Aunt & Uncle Sylvia & Leonard in Bournemouth.
This seems an appropriate time to write to all those people with
whom I wish to keep in touch at all, & although I have small
attachment to most of my relatives, I don't like to feel that
I have broken all contact with them.
B is now making excited preparations for her student-teaching,
which begins on Monday. Most of our serious current problems originate
in the fact that she cannot fully accept our relationship as it
is, & would much prefer to be legally married. I have more
or less resigned myself to that eventual necessary solution, but
much sparring must still take place before it is arrived at.
This evening Walt & Carol McQuesten came to visit us. They
came at short notice, & the evening was rather unsuccessful,
since couldn't decide what we wanted to do. A movie idea didn't
work out, & there was little else we could all agree on. We
ended up walking up to & along Strawberry Canyon. This was
my idea, & was the best part of our time together.
Friday, June 22, 1962
Midnight. B & I discussed plans, & more or less concluded
that I am to leave here July 1, & not come back for one or
2 months. Meanwhile my room will if possible be rented to someone
else. B has listed it with the college housing office, & already
2 girls came today to look at it, but no takers yet.
This was a big decision for us, & the full impact hasn't yet
hit me. It seems necessary for us to have some time apart, especially
to consider the marriage problem. Also I want a change, &
a working holiday, & still have hopes of hearing from Cal
Lodge. But it is hard to leave a place where so many of my needs
are so easily satisfied. My big hope is that, once away by myself,
I may be able to think more clearly, &, if not satisfied with
my immediate situation, it will not be hard to change.
Saturday, June 23 1962
(Written June 24) B went to San Jose today, not returning until
late in the evening, & I felt rather depressed & forlorn,
& finally went to see a movie, "Spartacus," which
at least entertained me. I also put up notices around campus advertising
my room to rent.
My whole life seems currently to be in flux, & I am showing
various signs of demoralization, e.g. sleeping & going to
bed too late, being too concerned about food.
Sunday, June 24 1962
Midnight. I am torn these days between a desire to get away and
a clinging to this apartment where so many of my needs are supplied,
& where most of the important tasks still before me, e.g.
writing letters, must begin.
We both slept very late this morning, & the only substantial
time either of us spent away from home was in a drive to Richmond
& a walk in the neighborhood of the High School where B will
be teaching in September. Tomorrow her student-teaching begins,
but fortunately she is not panicky, though she has been complaining
of not feeling well.
I spend some time every day reading Shirer's Rise and Fall of
the Third Reich, & am impressed with the diabolical logic
of the Nazi regime.
Monday, June 25, 1962
8:45 p.m. After a rather dull week-end, things started to happen
today. For me the most important thing was finally making a definite
arrangement to go up to Cal Lodge at Norden, California, a week
from today, where I will work 4 hours per day in return for room
& board, and will be able to stay if I wish until the end
of August. All this resulted from advertisement in the college
paper at the end of the semester, to which I replied. It seems
that I & perhaps one other fellow were the only people who
did reply
For some time I have been waiting for definite word from Carl
Levy, the manager of the Lodge, as to when he wanted me to start
work. I had more or less abandoned my idea of going to work on
the dairy farm near Modesto of one of Walt McQuesten's friends,
Ron Anderson, mainly because Ron was just getting married, &
somehow I didn't like the idea of going to live & work with
a couple of newlyweds, but also because the prospect of the heat
in that part of California at this time of year was not inviting.
This morning at 8:30 I got a telephone call from Mr. Levy, whom
I hadn't yet met & who seems to move about frequently between
Norden & here & Vallejo where he has an apartment, inviting
me to meet him at noon at the Student Union. I gladly agreed,
& it was this which seemed to get my day & week off to
a flying start. Before meeting him I picked up my typewriter,
record-player, & car, which had been undergoing repairs or
observation in different shops. I also finally made an appointment
to see a doctor this afternoon about my back.
Mr. Levy turned out to be a large jolly middle-aged man with a
pleasant personality & smiling face. We sat & talked for
a short while, & he apparently had no doubt that he wanted
me to come, & in fact seemed to be trying to sell me on the
idea. He made the Lodge & its environs sound very attractive,
assured me I would have plenty of freedom & privacy (apparently
they - he & his wife - are going to let me have private quarters
there, which their daughter normally occupies), that the work
wouldn't be too hard, & that my wife would be welcome there
too. (I told him I was married when he asked if I was used to
bachelor cooking, but I'm not sure now if this was wise or not.)
I am indeed generally happy about the prospect. After all, I have
nothing to lose. I will be free to leave any time I wish. It seems
the ideal kind of "retreat" for me at the present time,
though they will have crowds there on some weekends. So I agreed
definitely to come up next Monday, and all my thinking is now
oriented around this new adventure.
But I still have 2 worries, one physical & one financial.
The physical one concerns my back. During our recent trip to Los
Angeles, it hardly bothered me at all, but lately the pain on
the right side, which has troubled me intermittently for the last
2 months, has recurred so frequently that by today I had decided
I must see a doctor.
The man I went to see was a Dr. Blaisdell, a private doctor, for
since I am not presently registered at the University, I can't
use the college health service. I do have medical insurance, bought
under the college health plan, but this does not cover mere visits
to a physician, so today's call cost me $5, but I don't much mind
paying, since it seems very important to me to have this ailment,
whatever it is, taken care of.
I had already had my back examined once, on May 3, by a Dr. at
the college hospital, but he could find nothing wrong, & ascribed
it somehow to my studies. Blaisdell's examination was more thorough,
& he literally put his finger on the seat of the discomfort.
He said it may have something to do with the trigger action of
a nerve (?) which may need injections of Novocain to be relieved.
(This sounded distressing, since he didn't speak of a permanent
cure). But first he wanted x-rays. I was sent to Alta Bates Hospital,
where several x-rays were taken (cost $15, but this I presume
will be refunded by my insurance) and I am to see him again Friday
morning. The pain seems worse now, since tis prodding there, but
somehow I feel confident that it will not last, & that my
Norden adventure is possibly the best thing for it.
For B, today was memorable for very different reasons. It was
her first day as a student-teacher at Berkeley High School under
the University of California graduate teaching intern program,
and, in accordance with the "accelerated" nature of
this program, she actually found herself teaching a class the
very first day. Her Master Teacher is Mr. Fitzgibbon, apparently
a very relaxed, easy-going, rather disorganized person. B &
one other girl are his student teachers, teaching a summer course
in The American Novel. They teach 2 classes, each lasting 2 hours.
B was teaching for about 20 minutes today. In the afternoon she
has seminars. She came home about 4 p.m., tired, but apparently
well satisfied with herself.
Tuesday, June 26 1962
11:20 p.m. I spent most of my time preparing for my forthcoming
departure next Monday in various ways, including buying a pair
of used boots for $3 at the Goodwill, which seem to fit remarkably
well & have brand-new heels & soles. Having within the
past few months twice cycled to downtown Oakland to see a movie
when I had no car available, I have begun to realize that such
a journey can be enjoyable in itself, & is not particularly
trying in terms of effort or time. So today, wanting to renew
my membership in the National Automobile Club (which I have held
for the past 1 or 2 years under the name of Allen Smith, since
Ashleigh Brilliant was expelled from the Club for using its services
too often) I decided to cycle rather than drive to its office
in Oakland, & on this ride I saw a part of Oakland I had never
seen before - Negro slums near the Freeway, which really surprised
me. I was also rebuked, but not punished, by a motorcycle policeman,
for going through a red light - the first time I've ever come
in conflict with the law as a cyclist, though I habitually ignore
most traffic lights & stop signs when cycling, if the way
looks clear.
I have one pair of pants which never feel comfortable on me, &
always seem to slip down. Today I tried to solve this problem
by sewing pieces of rubber, cut from an old inner tube, inside
the waistline. I'm still not sure whether this is the answer.
B's second day of student teaching left her feeling less satisfied
than yesterday. She has invited me to come as a visitor tomorrow,
& I'm looking forward to it.
Wednesday, June 27, 1962
(Written June 28) This morning I went with B to Berkeley High
School to observe her third day of student-teaching. I saw 2 2-hour
classes. During the first, B taught for an hour & was then
followed for an hour by her master-teacher, Mr. Fitzgibbon, a
bearded young man of 27 with glasses & heavy eyelids. During
the 3rd hour it was the turn of B's fellow student-teacher Carol,
& then for the 4th hour Fitzgibbon took over again. During
the whole time, the subject under discussion was the opening chapters
of Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter, which I read a year ago, but
don't remember very well.
Neither B nor I had had enough sleep last night, & this seemed
to show in her teaching, which began at 8 o'clock. But she was
cheerful, & has good classroom personality. She already knows
all the students' names (there are 22) and moves naturally about
the room. Her technique consisted entirely of asking questions,
& my major criticism was that she wasn't positive enough herself,
didn't make enough definite statements, & often left questions
hanging in the air. She had given me the impression that Carol
was doing better than she was, but I thought the reverse, though
neither of them at this stage can be expected to be very good.
Fitzgibbon himself is remarkably good, especially in communicating
with the kids with concepts they understand, using slang, referring
to TV, movies, current events to illustrate a point.
On the whole B is taking this whole experience remarkably well.
Her confidence in general is quite high, though there are the
usual complaints, & I don't think she is going to have any
serious trouble.
Our only real problem right now, (apart from my back, which hardly
bothered me today at all) is that of the apartment here. Our desire
is to rent my half of it before I leave on Monday to some girl
whom B finds congenial. Otherwise, I will have to continue paying
$45 rent. (B is now willing to pay her full half of the rent at
last.) But we've had no luck yet, though 2 girls have come to
look at it.
I spent much of the afternoon shopping for a "windbreaker"
style jacket for myself. I had one which I much liked (given me
by a man I worked for in L.A.) which I left behind when B &
I went to Europe & which somehow got lost. My object was to
find one similar to that which I could afford, to take with me
to the Lodge. After much hunting in both new & used clothing
stores, I finally bought one I had seen yesterday, used, for $2.
It is quite similar to the one I lost (of dark green & brown
whipcord), & the only drawback was a mass of machine-embroidered
lettering on the back, advertising a shoe company, which I have
to pick out (a surprisingly long time-consuming process.)
I read The Crucible, a play by Arthur Miller about the Salem witch-trials.
It wasn't as good as I expected.
Thursday, June 28, 1962
11:30 p.m. I don't seem to have accomplished a great deal today,
but I am keeping busy & am in a generally placid mood. I slept
late, continued making preparations for my departure on Monday.
It will be the biggest single move I will have made since we came
to Berkeley 2 ½ years ago. It may turn out, & I rather
hope it does, that I won't return to this apartment at all, that
B in turn will move out, & some new arrangement will develop.
Today I put an ad in the Berkeley Gazette seeking a young woman
to share the apartment with B.
I spent the whole evening sitting & listening to the radio,
while I finished cutting & picking the lettering out of the
jacket I bought yesterday (q.v.) I can't praise highly enough
the FM station KPFA which we have here in Berkeley, to which I
am a "subscriber,) i.e. I pay $10 a year to receive their
bi-weekly program guide, and which gave me a delightful evening
of varied programs, all of a very high standard.
Friday, June 29. 1962
12:45 a.m. Today I went for the second time (the first was on
Monday, q.v.) to see Dr. Blaisdell about my back. The x-ray results
were negative, & the Doctor was none too certain about the
nature of my complaint or the proper way to treat it. He mentioned
applying local heat & taking aspirins. The only other suggestion
he had to offer was an injection of local anaesthetic which he
said "sometimes" brings relief. I agreed to the injection.
It was of xylocaine and hydrocortisone. It was the first time
I have ever had one in the back - but so far the only result has
been that the region has been more painful than usual. So it seems
that the only positive result which has come out of my quest for
aid so far has been advice to apply heat & take aspirins,
which I haven't yet tried. I still cherish the hope that my new
life at Cal Lodge may see the end of this condition.
I spent the rest of the day continuing my departure preparations,
& have at last begun to pack in earnest. My packing involves
2 operations: (1) preparing things to take with me (2) clearing
all my other possessions out of my room & storing them in
the living-room cupboard, so that my room may be rented.
Saturday, June 30, 1962
(Written July 1) My back was more painful than ever today, and
more continuously so. I kept wondering whether yesterday's injection
had caused this. This evening for the first time I tried applying
local heat in the form of a hot water bottle, but this did little
good.
Once again I spent all day in various preparations for my departure
on Monday, including getting a haircut, sorting papers, laundering.
Meanwhile B was with her parents in San Jose, & I became annoyed
at this, especially when 2 calls came from people interested in
sharing the apartment with her, & when she came back an hour
late. Although I showed the apartment to one girl who didn't take
it, another "prospect" was lost altogether because of
B's not being here. This put me in a bad mood, & by the time
B came home about 7:30 I was quite sullen & no longer interested
in going out to a show as we had planned. We spent the rest of
the evening in morose & rather bitter discussion of our problems.
Another point of friction was a hike to Mount Tamalpais which
Allen had invited us to go on tomorrow. I was interested, but
B wasn't. Nothing much was settled, but at least we became less
bitter as time went on.
Sunday, July 1, 1962
11:55 p.m. A last day of packing & preparing for my departure
tomorrow. At home all day with B, & fortunately we are once
more on good terms. She talks much about missing me when I'm away.
I say little about missing her. I wonder how much I will.
My back again gave me much trouble, but there were also long periods
of no pain at all. I hope almost desperately that I will leave
this complaint behind in Berkeley.
Unfortunately we still haven't been able to rent my room, &
it's uncertain what will now develop concerning it.
We tried something new today - a barbecue in our garden - I bought
briquets, & B cooked chicken, corn & potatoes, the latter
2 getting somewhat burned, but it was a pleasant experience.
In leaving here, I feel I am closing a chapter in my life. I leave
my room empty, & do not intend to return to it. If my car
gets me to Norden tomorrow, I will be entering upon a new kind
of existence.
Monday, July 2, 1962]
10:10 p.m. I have reached Cal Lodge at Norden Calif on highway
40, in the heart of the Sierras. Things have in general gone well,
& the Lodge in many ways exceeds my expectations.
I got a late start from Berkeley, largely because my electric
razor was giving trouble, & I decided to have it fixed before
I left. The day was hot, & I was feeling quite nervous &
irritable, before I took off in my loaded car about 11:30., but
once under way, I felt much more relaxed, & really enjoyed
much of the trip, except when the radiator became overheated,
& I had to stop & let it cool. I ate my sandwich lunch
on the grounds of the State Capitol in Sacramento. My car has
amazingly little power, & needs second gear on most long hills.
I was surprised how good the road was most of the way. Only towards
the end did it become a narrow single-lane road.
The Lodge is rather like a large youth- hostel, but at present
there are no guests - only the managerial family, Mr. & Mrs.
Levy & their fat 15 year old daughter Cherylyn. Mrs. L &
the girl do not look at all Jewish, & I wouldn't be surprised
if Ch is Mrs. L's daughter by a previous marriage, or she is adopted.
We all had supper together, & it appears that, as far as fooding
goes, I am going to have the time of my life here. They have large
stocks of food, and I am being given to understand that I can
eat anything I want.
I am also delighted with the quarters they have given me - a wood-paneled
room & adjoining bathroom with stall shower all to myself,
& at the other end of the building from their quarters.
I am to work the equivalent of 4 hours a day 6 days a week, &
it seems it will be mostly exterior painting.
The mosquitoes are bad in the early evening - I haven't used my
repellant yet. My sink has hot water, but you have to let it run
about 5 minutes. My back troubled me very little today, but I
was still aware of the condition in the early morning & late
evening. There is an entrance to the building near my room, but
this is to be kept locked (& I am apparently not to be given
a key) and I have to use the other door at the far end, so my
privacy of entrance & egress is limited.
I wish Mrs. L wouldn't ask me so many questions about my wife.
The situation is complicated, because B is teaching as Barbara
Smith, but I have told Levy I am married. Apart from these minor
points, however, I have at the moment no complaints. The surrounding
country seems very inviting, but I also look forward to spending
time here in my new quarters reading, writing, thinking &
planning. In general I am content to abide here & see how
things develop.
Tuesday, July 3, 1962
9:30 p.m. My first day at Cal Lodge has been a very strenuous
but an enjoyable one. This morning I worked 4 hours painting a
large Propane tank outside the building. After lunch I went for
a hike by myself, which took me to the top of Mount Disney. The
most remarkable thing about this hike was the strange combination
of hot weather with large patches of snow still on the ground.
I am delighted with the sounds & smells & sights about
me. Only the insects, & the heavy traffic on the nearby highway
detract from the beauty of life here.
I am being well fed. It was joy on my hike to know that a good
big dinner would be waiting for me at 6 o'clock sharp.
My opinion of the Levy family is still forming. Carl is very loud-mouthed,
& seems quite unintellectual. His major complaint about life
here is that it is lonely - there's no social life for the permanent
residents of the locality, of whom there are very few. He is originally
from New York, & says he is "of Jewish extraction."
He has a large stomach, & gives an impression of coarseness.
His wife, I gather, is not Jewish. She says she is a native of
Berkeley.
It seems I am going to be left alone here for days at a time.
I won't mind this if I can find company in the 2 nearby lodges
as I did this evening. A talkative Englishman now in the real
estate business named John Quinn, who is staying at the Sierra
Club & is a friend of Carl's, introduced me to the temporary
manager of of the Nature Friends Lodge, an old man who worked
for many years as a wrought-iron craftsman at Hearst's San Simeon
estate, & loves talking about it.
Wednesday, July 4, 1962
7:40 p.m A BLOW This evening after dinner, Carl Levy, the Manager
here at Cal Lodge, where this morning I did my second half-day
of work, & then spend the afternoon reading & sleeping
(not having slept well my first 2 nights here) bluntly informed
me that, because of a change in managements, there would not be
as much work to be done as he had anticipated, & consequently
I would not be wanted here after Sunday. This came as a complete
surprise. I had been given to understand at our talk on June 25
that I could stay until the end of August. But there was no written
agreement. What Carl says has happened is that he has just received
word that a party of 6 people (Managers, I gather, of various
departments of the Associated Students of the University of California)
have decided to come up next week for several days on the same
basis that I am here - working 4 hours a day in return for room
and board. They will do all the work that I was to have done.
I asked Carl to tell me frankly whether the real reason was anything
I had done or not done, but he insisted that it was nothing to
do with me & was a matter quite beyond his control. It bothered
me that he did not seem at all apologetic about it, and I feel
that I am the victim of a very dirty deal, even though it's true
that I myself had already been vaguely contemplating leaving here
before too long (this was because I felt misunderstandings were
already beginning to develop between me & the Levy's, particularly
over the eating arrangements. This afternoon I began to type them
a letter about this, but gave it up when it seemed that the whole
problem might result largely from my not having had enough sleep.
So what am I to do now? The situation is that I can stay here
until Monday, in return for 12 more hours of work (I get Sundays
off). I have about $300, a car and most of the belongings I need
for daily purposes. Barbara is student-teaching in Berkeley, and
I don't know whether or not my half of the apartment has yet been
rented. I have no particular desire to return to Berkeley. But
wherever I go I now face an economic problem which by staying
here at Cal Lodge until September I could have avoided. I will
now after all have to try to make some money this summer. My first
idea is to seek work in this vicinity, which I will probably do
tomorrow.
Looking on the bright side, I am now presented with a new challenge.
Life at Cal Lodge had its advantages, but it did not promise to
be very exciting. Whatever happens now, the next two months are
likely to prove adventurous ones.
Thursday, July 5 1962
This was on the whole a very unpleasant day spent in a very beautiful
setting. Before going to bed last night, I decided against my
earlier idea of driving around looking for work today. If I was
to be allowed to remain here at Cal Lodge only through Sunday,
then I might as well make the most of it & put off worrying
about getting another job somewhere else until my time here is
over. Therefore I would continue here as if nothing had happened,
& put in 8 hours of work today so that, with 4 hours tomorrow,
I might have the weekend completely free. But something unexpected
happened which changed my intention. While I was engaged in painting
some outside steps this morning (I had been working for an hour
and was just about to stop for breakfast) along came someone I
knew - Otto Wenger.
I have known Otto now for 5 years - ever since I first knew the
Carricos, whose friend he was. He & I have very little in
common, & there are many things about him which I (and it
seems most other people who get to know him) find obnoxious. But
there is one mutual interest which has occasionally drawn us together,
as it did today - the search for jobs. He is almost a professional
job-seeker. Ever since I have known him, he has seemed to spend
the majority of his time looking for work. And he makes a practice
of keeping in touch with a variety of people, including me, just
on the off-chance that they might provide him with a lead. But
he has also on occasion been a source of jobs. E.g. once he telephoned
B with an offer to be some kind of hostess at some kind of businessmen's
convention, but she was fearful & turned it down. (I think
it involved traveling with a "delegation" to Minnesota.)
A few days before I left Berkeley, Otto called. He had been trying
for some time to get me to come up with him to the Reno-Lake Tahoe
area looking for work. I now told him of my Norden plans, &
invited him to visit me at the Lodge, if he were up this way.
(Another plan, for us to drive up here together, fell through.)
So now here he was. He said he had driven his own car to his mother's
place in Loomis, but the car had broken down, & he had hitch-hiked
from there to here. Since he was looking for work, & I too
needed to start looking; since he knew (or claimed to) the best
places to look, & I didn't; and since his car wasn't running,
& mine was, it seemed obvious & almost providential for
us to team up, at least for today. So I abandoned my painting
job (with Mr. Levy's permission for today) and Otto & I set
out in search of work.
But many things went wrong & many problems arose, largely
connected with my car, with the weather which became very hot,
with Otto's personality, which began, as it always does, to get
on my nerves, and with food. (I had arranged to be back at 6 for
supper, & badly wanted to keep this appointment, especially
since I had only a small lunch in a snack-bar.) We had trouble
starting the car, but finally got it going. Otto wanted to drive,
& I let him, because the country was new to me & familiar
to him - but his aggressive style of driving frightened me, &
I soon began to feel that I was letting him control the entire
situation. It was this kind of situation which brought on much
of my moodiness, which intensified as the day went on.
We called at several lodges, including those in Squaw Valley,
hotels, & casinos, & at a labor union hall in Truckee.
We drove down the west side of Lake Tahoe, & eventually on
up the eastern (Nevada) side. The only positive result of all
this was that at Harrah's Club, the big gambling casino, just
across the Nevada line, on the south shore, I got as far as filling
out a form and being invited to come for some tests on Monday
morning, which, if I passed them and an interview, would qualify
me to be trained as a Keno (gambling game) operator. Other people
were I think being turned away. (Otto didn't even come in, he
has been rejected there so many times) but I think the fact that
I was a teacher helped.
As time went on, it began to seem doubtful whether I would make
it back in time for supper. I grew more & more unhappy, &
antagonistic towards Otto. I took over the driving & did the
last part of the journey amazingly fast, arriving at the Lodge
about 6:15, having left Otto to his own devices at Donner Lake
(he was intending to hitch-hike back to Loomis.
I much enjoyed my dinner, which was being kept warm for me; but
since then there has been more bad news which tends to depress
my spirits. I had intended to leave here on Monday morning, &
this held promise, since I could take the Harrah's test at 11
a.m. that day, & have the rest of the day to find somewhere
to stay, if I passed. But now Carl has asked me to leave on Sunday
instead of Monday, since this will be more convenient for him
& his family, who all plan to leave here early on Monday morning.
This leaves me feeling quite despondent. The whole beauty of my
coming to Cal Lodge, where I arrived only 3 days ago, was that
I would have 2 months in which to relax, do steady but not excessive
manual work, live a good open-air life, & be secure until
school started in September. Now all that is made to seem a hollow
dream, and I feel terribly insecure. It was good to come here,
because this was a place where I was wanted & could be useful.
Now I feel completely unwanted. My relationship with the Levy
family has on the whole not been satisfactory. I do not seem to
have communicated with them, & they, especially Mrs. L &
Cherylyn, seem to have little or no desire to communicate with
me. I cannot feel that this is my fault. But it pains me deeply,
especially because I seem to have been through this same kind
of thing before. (The most similar occasion was in 1954, when
I worked a few days at a Dutch farm for my room & board, &
was then suddenly asked to leave, without ever learning the reason
why.)
Where am I to go? What am I to do? Perhaps my saddest thought
at present is that even B probably does not particularly want
me back so soon, even if there were still room in our apartment.
At least, I have so far not heard from her, while I have written
her 3 letters.
My only consolation is the thought that all this is just a mood.
I have money, qualifications, friends, opportunities, & all
I need for happiness, if I will just reach out for it.
Friday, July 6 1962
11 p.m. I spent 8 hours painting exterior woodwork of the Lodge,
which left little time for anything else.
At last a letter from B, & it made me feel good to know she
misses me, though I don't yet really miss her.
After writing yesterday's entry, I suddenly remembered that there
was another possible way out of my current dilemma. I had completely
forgotten about Ron Anderson, the friend of Walt McQuesten's who
had invited me to come & work on his dairy farm at Hilmar
near Turlock. The last word I had had from him was a card written
May 24 in reply to one of mine, saying I could come after July
5. I had not replied to this because it was an offer that I wanted
neither to accept nor reject. Now at last I definitely wanted
to accept it. So I wrote a Special Delivery letter to him &
his new bride Karen, saying I expect to be there sometime on the
afternoon of Sunday, July 8, the day I have to leave Cal Lodge.
For the choice before me seemed to be one between an insecure
& possible uncomfortable & expensive life trying to get
a job around here, and a more useful & possibly a richer &
more rewarding experience working on a farm with new friends for
my room & board. In effect, I chose security rather than adventure,
and I am not beyond feeling just a little bit badly about this.
Still, even the farm job will be a kind of adventure, if it works
out at all.
Tonight there is a large party of summer session students staying
at the Lodge as part of a weekend tour they are on. I felt the
usual conflict between a desire to socialize & a desire not
to, & the latter easily won out, especially since I have my
own comfortably private quarters here, which they do not. (The
main accommodation is in dormitories.)
Saturday, July 7, 1962
11 p.m. This day proceeded well, but has ended with 2 very upsetting
incidents. This morning my job was to clean out the large incinerator
in the basement, & I did this to the best of my ability. This
was my last work for Cal Lodge, & by 11 I was free to spend
the remainder of the day as I wished, knowing that I must leave
tomorrow morning, & intending to head then directly for Ron
Anderson's farm.
I spent my time exploring Donner Pass, & finally paying a
short visit to the Donner Memorial State Park. The climb was the
main event, & most of it I much enjoyed, particularly the
rock-scrambling parts. I felt very much alive, & enjoyed all
the sensations of the climb. At one point I lay in soft grass
in the sun & felt like masturbating, so did so. I have masturbated
every night since leaving Berkeley - remarkable frequency for
me.
I returned to the Lodge for a roast-beef dinner, then came the
2 unhappy incidents. First came a long-distance telephone call
from Ron Anderson, saying he had just received my letter, &
it wouldn't be convenient for me to come, & he couldn't commit
himself for the future. Rejected again! Very disappointed, I sat
down to write out my problem of what to do after leaving here.
It was while I was doing this that the second incident began.
Carl invited me into the kitchen to get my usual snack before
he locked up. He was as friendly as he has ever been, since the
sudden change of Wednesday. But then I said something which made
him very angry at me. I asked if he would mind giving me the names
of the officials at the College whose decision it was that had
caused the change in the arrangements about my stay here. He became
quite irrationally furious at this, said I was calling him a liar,
threatened to make me leave tonight, & wouldn't answer my
question (although on Wednesday it was he that had told me that
I could if I wished take the matter up with these officials. I
was now only taking him at his word.) I tried to calm him down,
but it was no use. He called me a "trouble-maker," and
his entire reaction led me to suspect that he has a bad conscience
about this business. I asked him again if it was through any fault
of mine that I had to leave, & he said no. But he would offer
no further information than that I was leaving because he asked
me to leave, & said I could tell that to Forrest Tregea (who
is, I think, the Associated Students Business Manager).
All of this much disturbed me. A second letter came from B today
saying how much she misses me, & I am now much more inclined
to go back to Berkeley, if only to be among friends.
Sunday, July 8, 1962
(Written July 9) Today my Norden fiasco came to an end, and, after
much indecision, during which I seriously considered sleeping
out somewhere overnight & going on Monday morning to follow
up my employment opportunity at Harrah's Club (see July 5), I
decided to return to Berkeley.
First I again visited Donner Memorial Park & heard a Jewish-looking
Forest Ranger named Ivan Rose give a talk on the Donner party
tragedy. Then again to Squaw Valley, where I wandered on the valley
floor & ate a picnic lunch.
I had left Cal Lodge at 9:30. I shook hands with Carl, & he
let me have a sandwich lunch.
I came back to Berkeley by a different route from the one I had
taken up to Norden, going south along the western shore of Lake
Tahoe, then following Highway 50 back to Sacramento. This was
not such a fast road.
I had a flat tire before reaching Sacramento, but was pleased
at the speed & efficiency with which I changed it.
Arriving at Berkeley about 9:45, I telephoned B to find out what
the situation was in our apartment, since she might by now have
rented my room. She hadn't, but we had 4 guests - my cousins,
Pearl & Archie Bogat, their daughter Regina, & her dog
Tony. So I slept with B in her room, Archie with Pearl in mine,
& (for all I know) Regina with Tony in the living room. I
am going to be their chauffeur and guide in San Francisco for
the next 2 days.
I felt that I had been away much longer than 6 days. B had cut
her hair and rearranged my room. Our future arrangements remain
unsettled.
Monday, July 9, 1962
Midnight. Today I devoted to my cousins Pearl & Archie &
Reggie, chauffeuring & guiding them to various places, including
the Golden Gate Bridge, Sausalito, the Palace of the Legion of
Honor, Fisherman's Wharf (where we had a fish & chip lunch)
& the De Young Museum. Archie paid all expenses. B couldn't
come with us because of her student-teaching. Pearl & Archie
take a wonderful delight in everything. Regina, who is in her
30's & just divorced, is much more educated & intelligent.
She is a professional artist, & knows a great deal about art,
so I really enjoyed going round galleries with her.
This evening B joined us, & we went out to dinner (a disappointing
one at a place called Crushon's) & then to visit an artist
friend of Regina's named Earl Lamon, who has a luxurious home-studio
in Albany. I talked & thought & heard more about art today,
& especially modern art, than I have in a long time, &
found myself protesting repeatedly that modern art lacks standards.
Tuesday, July 10, 1962
(Written July 11) For a second day I spent nearly all my time
with Pearl, Archie, & Regina going around San Francisco. On
the whole, it was very enjoyable for me, especially being treated
to all meals, being able to drive Archie's new car, a Rambler,
seeing places I'd never seen before, e.g. Gump's and the "Top
of the Mark," and hearing & learning a lot about modern
art. Our first call today was on an artist friend of Regina's
named Don Shaw, who has a very large studio on Mission Street,
which he rents very cheaply. He too paints abstracts which to
me have no appeal at all.
Later we went to an exhibition at the De Young Museum of the recent
works of another friend of Regina's name Thiebault, whose "gimmick"
is the painting of pieces of cake, pies, slot machines, meat counters,
and other things seen in shops & cafes which suggest the uniformity
& cultural drabness of American life. His effect is achieved
by the sheer number of paintings devoted to this single theme.
Unfortunately the artist himself wasn't there, though this was
the first day of the exhibit.
In the evening, some of Regina's arty friends visited us here,
but by this time I had become somewhat tired of her type of conversation,
& at one point I felt really angry with her, when she began
talking while I was playing a Shelley Berman record for the others.
Finally in disgust, I took the record off, & shortly after
joined B in her room, where she had all evening been trying to
prepare her lesson for tomorrow's class.
Archie insisted on giving us $20 to pay for their stay with us.
This is just a gift, since it cost us nothing, & I had a grand
2-day holiday out of it.
Wednesday, July 11, 1962
11:10 a.m. Pearl, Archie, Regina & her dog Tony, who stayed
here for 3 nights, have now left. I was glad of their visit, since
it kept me constantly occupied, & I didn't have to spend any
money. Regina, whose whole life seems to be art, & who is
only a few years older than I, looked at my paintings & drawings
& poems, but said nothing very encouraging about them. She
regretted I had been so involved with surrealism.
Now that the Bogat visit is over, I face a strange situation here.
I came back from the Sierras because the Cal Lodge deal collapsed,
& no other idea seemed appealing enough to remain away for.
In my absence, B has made contact with our new landlady Mrs. Gruenig,
& paid her $45, which is just half of our month's rent. B
also rearranged my room in order to make it more attractive to
prospective renters, but didn't manage to rent it. B still has
several more weeks of student-teaching to do at Berkeley High.
This morning I went & observed her there for the second time,
but didn't think she was doing very well. She seemed too confused
& unsure of what she was trying to get across.
I have been sharing B's room for the past 2 days. My car is parked
in the street, still packed with most of my belongings. I am presently
here in the apartment alone, & feel very unsure of what to
do from here on. In a way, I would like to continue my vacation,
i.e. find some other place to go & stay away from Berkeley,
where I can think & write, & possibly support myself by
working. But there is still the apartment problem here, although
that could be fairly simply solved, if I just pay enough to cover
my half of the rent. That way I'll have a home to come back to
whenever I wish, & B could still try to rent my room in the
meantime. Mrs. Gruenig told B she is going to raise the rent,
& that makes it even more likely that we will both move before
long to some other place.
But of course, sooner or later I will have to begin work on my
dissertation, & in a way, this would be a good time to start.
At least I could do a little general reading on California, in
order to get thinking about a thesis topic.
Whatever happens, however, things seem likely, after a period
of possible dislocation, to be definitely on the upgrade for B
& me, especially economically. Within 3 months, we expect
to have a combined monthly take-home income of about $580. I have
no more exams to face. In general, our future at this point looks
extremely bright.
(Continuing July 12) In the afternoon I went to the college placement
office to seek another position, preferably of the kind I had
at Cal Lodge. Miss Mae & Mrs. Clarke there were both interested
in the story of how I had been treated by Carl Levy, & Mrs.
Clarke, to my surprise, said she was going to look into it for
me. Her theory is that perhaps Levy found out that he was not
permitted to take on somebody to help with the work there, as
I was taken on. But they had no other job for me right now, &
I am to try again on Friday.
My relationship with B is unclear & rather strained because
of her preoccupation with her student-teaching & the disorganized
way in which she goes about it, which always seems to involve
staying up too late & not getting enough sleep.
I went by myself to see a British film, "A Taste of Honey,"
unusual in its treatment of inter-racial love & homosexuality.
Thursday July 12, 1962
(Written July 13) Things continue to be very unsettled. I a still
living, once again, with B in our apartment at 2505 Parker St.
in Berkeley. But I haven't yet moved most of my belongings from
my car back into my room, and am not sure that I want to.
I slept until 11 a.m., the first time I have slept so long in
weeks. My only important accomplishments during the day were to
complete the process of obtaining a new spare tire for my car
(yesterday I bought a tire for $4.50. Today I had it mounted,
for another dollar) and to write the "Levy letter,"
which I had been intending to write since last Saturday, a letter
of protest to Mr. Forrest Tregea who is Executive Director of
the Associated Students of the University of California which
owns Cal Lodge, about the way I was treated at the Lodge, i.e.
being invited to come for 2 months & then being asked to leave
after 2 days. B persuaded me to leave out 2 passages which she
thought might actually get Carl Levy fired. In one of these I
said that he had been so angry on Saturday evening (see July 7)
that I was afraid he was going to strike me. I am not yet sure
whether or not I am going to send this letter. I intend to show
it first to Mrs Clark at the Placement Office tomorrow.
I spent much of the evening talking with B, but our conversation
was interrupted by numerous calls from her friends, & even
a visit from one of them (Dick Atkins) while I remained in my
room.
Friday, July 13, 1962
(written July 14) I began to be troubled by slight feelings of
demoralization today, although there were also periods of happiness,
e.g. while I was stewing some apricots from our garden.
Things continue to be extremely unsettled, though I make timid
efforts to settle them. Today I went back to the college Placement
Office, but they had no job to offer me at all. I have a suspicion
that they don't think I need a job very badly & are therefore
not too anxious to help me. I showed my "Levy letter"
(see yesterday) to Mrs. Clark, & then later mailed it to Forrest
Tregea.
I went to the college Housing Office to study the housing situation,
& was surprised at the number & variety of accommodations
currently available. The trouble is, I don't really know what
I'm looking for. My immediate problem is whether to pay my half
($45) of the July's rent here, or move somewhere else temporarily,
possibly to a very cheap room (rooms can be obtained for $20 a
month.) The larger problem is the question of whether B &
I are both to move permanently from this Parker St. apartment,
and if so, where to. We talked a good deal about this this eve,
but B's period has begun, & she didn't seem in a mood very
fruitful with ideas. Besides, her teaching has been very fatiguing.
One of my major concerns today was trying to fix a clogged drain
in our shower. Formerly we would have contacted the landlady,
but the new landlady Mrs. Gruenig is not supposed to know I am
here, so I bought some Drano & tried to do it myself, but
without success.
I was disappointed when I returned from the Lodge on Sunday to
find waiting for me a letter from my health insurance company
saying that my policy did not cover any of the treatments I had
had on my back, since it was not an "accident." The
2 doctor visits, x-rays, & injection cost me a total of $30,
which is by far the most I have ever had to spend on my own health.
The pain in my back is still present, & I feel it occasionally
each day, but it is never bad enough now to seriously distress
me. I fervently hope that the trouble, whatever it is, is somehow
healing.
Saturday, July 14 1962
(Written July 15) This morning my feeling of unsettlement began
to get the better of me, & I at least made some kind of decision.
I decided that I must at least be prepared to pay my $45 half
of the rent here for this month, which I had thus far been unwilling
to countenance, & so I gave the money to B, though she hasn't
yet given it to the landlady.
Having thus at least symbolically rectified my anomalous position
here, I still recognize the possibility that I may yet want to
go away somewhere else, that my room could thus still be rented,
so I made an "APARTMENT TO SHARE" sign, & put it
outside our house. At the same time, I also felt freer to bring
some of my belongings in from my car, where they had been sitting
since I returned from the Sierras last Sunday. And this evening
B & I, for the first time in 2 years, went out looking at
apartments together. Our general feeling is that we are not completely
satisfied with our present place, & now, for many reasons,
is a very good time to make a change. But, after inspecting a
number of other places on the north & south side of campus,
we were forced to conclude that ours was a better deal than any
of them, and we began talking about ways in which we might improve
our place. It began to seem a great pity that our new landlady
intends to raise our rent (we don't yet know by how much.) We
saw places in every way inferior to ours where the rent was higher.
But we will probably continue looking.
Our shower drain was again a problem today, on which I again tried
Drano, but by the evening it appeared to have improved somewhat,
at least to the point where it was possible to take a shower if
you didn't run the water very hard.
We had a surprise telephone call this afternoon, from Irwin &
Gilda Wunderman of Mountain View, whom we know through Hartley
& Margie Kern. They were in Berkeley, & invited us to
meet them at Tilden Park, which we did, driving up there in my
car. I was glad they called, since we hadn't been in contact with
them for a long time. They have 3 children, & are financially
quite comfortable, but somehow avoid being typically "middle-class."
For one thing, they don't talk about their children at all, which
seems quite surprising.
I had a letter from my Aunt Hilda in Bournemouth, in reply to
one I wrote her & George recently. She tells how George has
been ill for a year, & says she was surprised to see that
I said I have visited Myrna & she seemed happy in the single
life she has chosen - since my mother had said Myrna was married!
I had forgotten when writing that this was the "line"
about Myrna that my mother had been giving out.
Late in the evening, when both tired, we played a game of chess,
which I won.
Sunday, July 15, 1962
(Written July 16) Our shower drain, which gave much trouble for
several days, was somehow working perfectly again by today. Probably
the whole can of "Drano" which I used did the good work,
though I can't understand why it took so long to take effect.
We both slept late this morning. I still haven't given up the
idea of another vacation away from Berkeley, & today took
the unusual step of writing to one of our SERVAS hosts named Kathriner
in Ramona, whom I know from their host application form own a
chicken ranch where they can sometimes use additional help. I
explained my situation, & offered to work 4 hours a day 6
days a week in return for room & board.
I also finished reading Billy Budd by Herman Melville, a short
novel, really more a long parable, which B is teaching in her
High School English class. I was quite unimpressed by it.
I became much disturbed by B's apparent complete inability to
plan & regulate her time, which often results in her wanting
to study when I want to go to bed.
This evening we went to an extremely good film show at International
House. It consisted of six "films of satire & protest"
introduced by Albert Johnson, whom B & I have both come to
admire as an entertainer & speaker on many occasions at UC.
Every one of the films was remarkable in its own way. The first
was made here in Berkeley last Charter Day, & showed the picketing
which took place when the President came. Next was a Canadian
film about professional wrestling, which made the whole thing
seem like a great comedy. Next came a powerful attack upon apartheid
in South Africa. After an intermission came another Canadian film,
both informative and satirical, about various physical culture
organizations and movements which are springing up. Then an English
picture called "The Visit," depicting in drab detail
the dull & frustrating life of a working girl who lives with
& takes care of her parents. This film, I noticed, was directed
by Michael Tuchner, whom I well remember as the very capable head
of the University College London Film Society when I was there.
Finally came a very grim French film about the Nazi concentration
camps, combining German documentary pictures and others made at
the time with color pictures of what these places look like today.
I feel I have to do much more writing & thinking about what
this particular aspect of the Nazi era really signifies.
Monday, July 16, 1962
11:10 p.m. I continue to be in a demoralized & disorganized
condition, though not really depressed. The trouble is that at
present I don't feel on solid ground. I have no clear conception
of what I am supposed to be doing with my life at the moment.
Am I "on vacation"? If so, I should be enjoying myself
& doing things not normally possible. To a certain extent
I am doing this, e.g. I am reading a book for sheer interest and
pleasure - Shirer's Rise and Fall of the Third Reich. But my real
vacation, in the Sierras, seems to have lasted only one week,
&, now that I am back in Berkeley, I have a tendency to feel
that I might as well regard my vacation as over, & get on
with my next big academic project, the writing of my thesis. This
evening I took steps towards this, spending a couple of hours
in the Bancroft Library, where, however, for various reasons,
I felt much less comfortable than at my desk in the stacks.
Probably well over a year ago, B burned the collar of one of my
favorite shirts while ironing it, making it unwearable. Today
I successfully finished repairing it by reversing the collar,
the first time I have ever done such a job.
Tuesday, July 17, 1962
(Written July 18) Still lacking a firm sense of orientation, I
passed the day pleasantly & busily enough. My main projects
upon which I should be concentrating, however, all have to do
with writing, but these I am neglecting. I prefer to read, especially
when I have such good reading matter at hand. Shirer's account
of Germany's invasion of Russia fascinates me & tells me much
that I have always wanted to know. Similarly interesting do I
find Mel Scott's book on the San Francisco Bay Area, which I continued
reading in the Bancroft Library this evening.
This morning I went for the third time to observe B as a teacher
at Berkeley High. This time she was actually giving a "demonstration,"
and being observed by about 22 other student-teachers as she discussed
Huckleberry Finn with her class in the lecture hall (normally
it's in a classroom). Her personality as a teacher is remarkably
good - dynamic, stimulating, pleasant. (And this seemed to be
the consensus of the other observers when B saw them later). Her
problems lie in the areas of organization & subject matter.
She is lucky here to have a much-above-average class who respond
well to her technique.
I spent the whole afternoon stewing apricots from the single apricot
tree in our garden, yielding 7 large jars.
Problems about our living-situation are still arising. I had put
an "APARTMENT TO SHARE" sign out, and today a girl from
Africa (Ghana) came and liked the place. B wasn't here. The girl
wanted the place only for a month, & if only I had a place
to go for that month, this would be a good arrangement, especially
because I think the experience would be a fine one for B. (The
girl is here to instruct Peace-Corps trainees.) But I don't have
anyplace in mind to go, & I have been gradually re-adjusting
myself to living here through the summer. The upshot so far is
that B has told the girl we can't decide until Thursday.
Wednesday, July 18, 1962
(Written July 19) Things gradually take on a more stable aspect.
Today I met our new landlady Mrs. Gruenig for the first time.
I went to pay her my $45 half of our month's rent. She was pleasant
enough, but a very different type from Miss Hult. She said Miss
Hult had "spoiled" the people living here, charging
such low rent & giving so much maid service. Mrs Gruenig intends
to raise our rent shortly from $90 to $100 a month. But anyway,
at least we are now paid up, & I hope I have established fairly
good relations with her. (We had quite a long rambling chat. She
has been in the real estate business since the 1930's, & owns
& manages many student residences in Berkeley.)
Also today I at last obtained an odd job, to be a door-to-door
interviewer in a suburb in Sacramento tomorrow. In connection
with this, I had to go to a briefing meeting this eve at the hill
home of a Mr. Morales, who apparently is some kind of consultant.
I began writing some reminiscences of my Washington childhood.
Thursday, July19, 1962
10:25 p.m. I had a job which kept me busy, or at least occupied
my time, nearly all day. It involved going to Sacramento with
2 other students (there were other groups also doing this), ringing
doorbells in certain assigned locations, & asking housewives
3 questions: (1) how many times in the past month they had shopped
at a certain shopping center (2) whether they had a savings account
(3) whether that account was with a bank, savings & loan instn,
or something else. We each conducted about 60 of these very brief
interviews, all in suburban areas. The job was very cushy. We
were paid $1.75 an hour for 10 ½ hours, though the actual
work took only about 6 hours. The rest of the time was spent driving
to & from Sacramento and in an hour-long visit to Sutter's
Fort & the Indian Museum, which I had never seen before.
We drew straws for jobs tomorrow, & I was a lucky winner.
B was out this evening on a date with her friend Dick Atkins.
We are now talking much more seriously about getting legally married
before the Fall, but B half-jokingly says she doesn't want the
ceremony to take place until her current date-engagements have
been fulfilled.
Friday, July 20 1962
(Written July 21) My survey work was the same type as yesterday's,
with these differences: The area was not Sacramento, but around
Sonoma. I was working with 2 other fellows different from those
I worked with yesterday, & who had much easier consciences
about "goofing off." They wasted much time eating, talking,
& just sitting around, & the consequence was that we didn't
finish our assignment. Fortunately Mr. Morales didn't take this
too badly, I am to return for indoor calculating work tomorrow.
The heat was again troublesome, & it was a long tiring day,
keeping me away from home from 7:15 a.m. to 8 p.m. Nevertheless
I went to a party with B in San Francisco this eve given by one
of her teacher intern friends, Ron Gustin, but it meant little
to me.
Saturday, July 21, 1962
(written July22) For the 3rd day I worked for Mr. Morales, the
economic consultant. This time I was the only employee (I was
the only one of the 8 who originally applied who could work today)
and instead of doing door-to-door survey work, I was at his house
tabulating the results of the last 2 days' survey, and also doing
some other tabulating, using an electric calculating machine,
which I was glad to find very easy to operate. In general, the
working day passed very pleasantly (it included using my car to
help Mr. M. move a small bed.) He is apparently of Mexican descent,
large & boyish in appearance, unmarried at 33, & about
to go off to Cannes & Vienna for a month's vacation.
I much enjoyed being able to work usefully & make money again,
& am to go back tomorrow afternoon.
This eve I went with B to see 2 remarkable films, both of which
I had often heard praised. The first was "Pather Panchali,"
an Indian film about the life of a family in an Indian village,
remarkable for the beauty of its photography. This was only the
second full-length Indian film I had seen. The other film tonight
was Black Orpheus, a most unusual French film made in Brazil,
re-telling the Orpheus legend in terms of the negroes of Rio at
carnival time. I don't think I have ever seen a film with so much
continual movement. Everybody seems to be dancing most of the
time. Both of these films tonight were rich in sensual experience,
but not so much in the emotive element, which must be there in
order fully to satisfy me.
Back home again, we listened to a record of Hal Holbrook re-creating
Mark Twain, which sounded quite well done.
Sunday, July 22 1962
(Written July 23) 3 hours' more work for Mr. Morales at his place
this afternoon, & the happy prospect of several more days'
work for him next week.
I wrote a letter to Hartley & Marge, who now say they plan
to return from their great trip by Nov. of next year. They have
now been gone almost 2 years.
This eve I went to a meeting of the "Encampment for Citizenship"
to which I had been invited by Doris Bardon the director, who
is a friend of Irwin & Gilda Wunderman. The Encampment is
apparently a summer conference on important world & national
issues, for young people. The speaker at this very informal meeting
was Paul Jacobs, a former communist & union organizer, &
now a writer for the Reporter. He gave an extremely good talk
on some current problems, e.g. telling about the Eichman trial,
which he had observed, & about Jimmy Hoffa the teamster boss,
whom he knows personally.
Monday, July 23 1962
11 p.m. Another full day's work for Mr. Morales, earning $17.50
plus travel expenses. My assignment today was to drive back to
the Sonoma Valley, where I had worked on Friday with Dan Goldstine
& Ted Sarbin, but this time alone in my own car, to conduct
50 of the same brief interviews in areas which had been missed.
The job had its hazards & unpleasantness, especially the heat
& the ubiquitous dogs, but my spirits were remarkably high
all day. I enjoy being a trusted employee sent off alone on missions
like this (besides interviews, I had to do several minor jobs,
such as telephoning the Administrator of the Sonoma State Hospital
to obtain some statistical information). And I did my best, working
hard & conscientiously through the heat of the day, driving
up to many scattered houses in order to interview people. My car
behaved well, except for overheating once on a hill.
I look forward to working again tomorrow.
Tuesday, July 24 1962
(Written July 25) From 9 to 6:30 I was again working for Mr. Morales,
& spent most of the afternoon in San Francisco delivering
things for him in my car. I learned today that he is half Russian.
This job is a good escape for me, & is making me lots of money
(over $90 so far). But alas it must end in 2 days, when Mr. M
flies off to Europe.
Wednesday, July 25, 1962
11:55 p.m. I was in Mr. Vic Morales' employ literally all day
today, mostly at his place, helping him finish up a report on
the economic potential of the Sonoma Valley. I had lunch &
dinner there. To dinner also came 3 of his friends. My working
time amounted to 13 hours, so I made over $22. Tomorrow I hope
to get paid for this very pleasant week's work.
Thursday, July 26, 1962
(Written July 27) Vic Morales, my boss, for whom I have come to
have a real liking after working for & with him for a week,
was due to fly from Oakland Airport today at 6:30 p.m., on his
way to a 5-week vacation in Europe. My job involved helping him
finish up both business & personal matters in order to be
ready to leave. I delivered copies of his Sonoma report in Petaluma
& San Francisco, & helped him tidy & lock up the house,
& finally drove him to the airport. Towards the end it became
very exciting, since he had left so many things to the last minute
& actually not everything did get done, so that I have been
left with several assignments to complete, for which of course
I will be paid. There is also the chance that when he comes back,
he will want to employ me again. It is a thousand pities, from
my point of view, that he is going away at all, or that I didn't
have longer contact with him before now, for it became obvious
that I could satisfy very well the real need he has for an assistant
- he has more work than he can handle.
He paid me today for the work I have done so far, plus a couple
of hours tomorrow. My actual earnings at $1.75 an hour came to
$132.12. This makes the job financially one of the best I have
ever had.
On the way to the airport, we picked up B at a teaching-intern
picnic. After leaving Vic at the airport, B & I went to Walt
& Carol McQuesten's in San Leandro, where we had a date for
dinner. Walt took us to see the Boys' Club, where he works as
arts & crafts instructor, & later we played bridge. By
then I was very tired. They were trying to teach me the game,
but I absorbed very little, & doubt if I could ever really
enjoy it. I was surprised how complicated it was. They seemed
to be talking a foreign language.
Friday, July 27, 1962
9:55 p.m. After the hectic & interesting life of the last
7 days, today was rather an anti-climax. But I still had some
work to do for Vic Morales - a calculating machine & some
books to be returned to different places in San Francisco, and
3 phone calls to be made.
Being over in the City, I took advantage of the opportunity to
do a little sight-seeing-walked around the Montgomery- Market
St. area and paid a visit to the California Historical Society.
But I felt tired much of the time, & intend to have an early
night tonight.
(Continuing July 28) Today at last I finished reading the 1150
pages of William L. Shirer's Rise and Fall of the Third Reich,
which I began on June 12 & have been reading pretty steadily
ever since, especially on the toilet and at meals. It is one of
the longest books I have ever completely read, and I am only sorry
that it isn't longer, for I found it most absorbing. The main
reason was that it tied together all the various information about
Nazi Germany that I have acquired from different sources since
my earliest years. For the first time, I felt I was getting the
whole story. I wasn't bothered by Shirer's rather moralistic attitude.
I was impressed by the fact that the truth about the Nazis appears
to be more damning than any propaganda that could be invented.
For example, I had never known before that Hitler actually ordered
his soldiers to forget about the laws of war when invading Russia.
Saturday, July 28, 1962
9:15 p.m. Today I have once again begun to suffer from demoralization.
My glorious week with Vic Morales, which kept me busy making money
& left little time for anything else, is over, & I am
again left with nothing definite to do.
My sense of demoralization is probably accentuated by the fact
that for the second successive evening, B is out on a date with
one of her boy-friends. At present there are two principle projects
which call for attention. One is my relationship with B, which
involves legalizing our marriage & deciding where we are going
to live. The second is the writing of my Ph.D. thesis. Neither
is easy to tackle, & at the moment a kind of mental inertia
prevents me from attacking either with any enthusiasm.
I have passed the day sitting around, mostly reading, here &
at the library, and eating. I have a certain desire for company,
yet am unwilling to seek it out. E.g. I could go over to the Carricos,
but am afraid of being rejected there in some way.
Sunday, July 29, 1962
11:50 p.m. After writing the above, I called Allen, was not rejected
at all, & so went over there & concluded the evening pleasantly
in congenial conversation, although as usual I became bored when
Allen began talking at great length about the peace movement and
non-violence.
Today I spent entirely with B. After sleeping late & making
love in bed, we drove to San Francisco & went for the first
time on a cruise of the Bay which started at Fisherman's Wharf
& took us under both the Golden Gate and the Oakland Bay bridges.
It lasted an hour & was quite enjoyable. We also saw an art
exhibit & visited the San Francisco Maritime Museum. For another
"first," I had a caricature of myself done by a professional
artist for the first time. It cost 50 cents. He was very fast,
but quite good.
After the cruise, which cost $1.25 each, we went & had fish
& chips English style in a place we had discovered on a previous
visit to the City. With tea, they made a very satisfying meal.
Then, after a visit to the Jack Tar Hotel, whose interior I had
been wanting to see, we drove to 369 Mullen Ave, to attend an
anarchist meeting I had seen advertised. As often happens with
us, B, who was not at all interested in coming, became much more
interested at the meeting than I was.
Monday, July 30 1962
(Written July 31) For much of the day, I suffered from a sense
of demoralization.
I read in a few hours most of George Stewart's book, Ordeal By
Hunger, about the Donner Party, and found it grimly fascinating.
I finally wrote a letter to the San Francisco Institute of Psychoanalysis,
inquiring whether I might be eligible for low-cost treatment there.
Dr. Lininger at the Student Health Center had referred me there,
through a Dr. Harvey Powelson of Orinda to whom I wrote earlier.
This eve B & I went for a free trial lesson at the Arthur
Murray Dancing Studio. We have done this before, & have done
similar things at the Vic Tanney gymnasiums and the Dale Carnegie
Human Relations courses. They always give you a free lesson, session,
or workout of some kind, then they take you into an office where
they give you the sales pitch, & offer you a "special
reduction," if you sign up then & there. I usually make
it a rule to take advantage of anything that's free, but this
evening I found myself feeling rather badly about causing these
people to waste their time when I knew I had no intention whatsoever
of getting financially involved with them. B & I were given
an hour's private lesson, then came the sales pitch. I tried to
get out of it quickly, but B failed to cooperate, & we didn't
escape without awkwardness.
Larry has written that he wants to stay with us while attending
a summer session in San Francisco. Our own relationship &
residential position is so uncertain at the moment that we're
not too eager to have him, but I wrote & said he could come.
Tuesday, July 31, 1962
10:55 p.m. B is making it increasingly plain to me that she would
prefer me not to be here right now, & that, though she missed
me the week I was away at Norden, she's sorry I couldn't have
stayed away longer. I feel pretty much the same, & must admit
that in the 3 weeks I have now been back, I have failed to make
any satisfactory new adjustment. I would still like to be away
somewhere working in the out-of-doors. The only sure way to accomplish
this is simply to go off & seek work as I go. For few opportunities
present themselves here, though I daily scan the papers &
visit the student job office. Yet I now have a commitment keeping
me here. Victor Morales is depending on me to see to the typing
& delivery of his Sacramento report, which he is now supposed
to send me from Europe. (At first it was supposed to be from New
York, but a card came from there on Saturday saying he hasn't
finished it yet.)
All sorts of ideas are in my mind, e.g. trying to join the Seamen's
Union, moving by myself to cheaper lodgings in Berkeley, starting
full-time work on my thesis, going on a vacation to some resort
where I'd pay for room & board. But something saps my will
to see any of these ideas through fully, though I look into them,
e.g. today besides going to the student job office, I visited
a travel bureau to see if I could get any ideas, but none looked
appealing. I also went this morning to observe B teaching for
the 4th time, & I went to Mr. Bean's lecture on California
History in the course he is now giving ( in the 2nd summer session)
every day at 11.
I finished Ordeal By Hunger and am re-reading Jack London's Call
of the Wild which I first read as a child. And I did spend some
time in the Bancroft Library (where the noise problem still bothers
me) continuing Mel Scott's book on the S.F. Bay Area.
We are still receiving inquiries about my room to rent, and B
showed it to a girl this eve, whom however she doesn't think will
take it.
Part of my present uneasiness arises from B's ambiguous attitude
towards me. Under the circumstances, it would really be wisest
to cut my roots here completely for the time being.
Wednesday, August 1, 1962
(Written Aug 2) This was a strange day, & I am in a strange
unpleasant mood. My trouble has largely to do with B, & I
have been having feelings of hostility towards her, especially
since she has more or less asked me to leave here so that she
can be free of me for a while.
Yet I am willing to leave, if it can be for something congenial,
& today, besides looking at some more rooms to rent, I explored
another avenue of escape, one which I have thought about for years
- the possibility of going away to sea. Once before, in London,
I investigated joining the Seamen's Union, but found it difficult
& didn't pursue it. Today I went to S.F. & visited 3 union
buildings. Their atmosphere was strange & interesting to me
- men of many races & accents, all working men, none highly
educated; cigar smoke; new buildings already become shabby. Union
officials dressed like plutocrats.
At the Pacific Seamen's Union I was told they weren't taking any
applications - too many of their own members out of work. At the
Marine Cooks & Steward's Union, an official named Abe Handelsman
wanted to make a deal with me. He was going to help me get a job
in the Military Sea Transport Service. In return, I was to become
a union organizer for his Union, & try to get all my ship-mates
to sign pledge-cards. He sent me up to Fort Mason to apply, but
I was immediately turned away because I didn't have seaman's papers,
which apparently have to be obtained through the Coast Guard,
& I'm still not sure whether there is any chance of my obtaining
those. (I may have to be a citizen & to have had sea experience.)
I returned to Handelsman's Union. I was impressed with how friendly
several men in his office were to me. They seemed genuinely anxious
to help me find work, & to convince me that their union was
the best, stressing high pay & security. Later I tried the
Marine Firemen's Union, but got nowhere there either, & at
length came home, having achieved very little.
At home, another blow met me. B was entertaining a boy-friend
for dinner, & asked me, in a note on the door, to stay out
until 8 p.m. This really depressed me, especially because I was
tired & hungry. Eventually I had supper in a restaurant, then
went to the Bancroft Library, where I began to become really interested
in my Ph.D. project.
So ends this seven-month diary, which seen me through my longest
academic ordeal & leaves me now in a time of confusion, but
which seems to bear the seeds of a future bright with promise.
(signed) A.BRILLIANT, Berkeley, California August 1962.
[End of volume 30]
[Begin volume 31]
Thursday, August 2, 1962
This diary opens in a period of confusion. The most stable features
of my life during the past 2 years have been my relationship with
B, our home in this apartment at 2505 Parker Street, my academic
project for a Ph.D. in American History, and my job as a teaching
assistant. At the moment, however, the first 2 features are very
shaky, and the last will not again come into operation until next
month, and perhaps not even then, if I can find something better.
So the only definite fact in my life at present seems to be that
I am still working towards my Ph.D., & having passed my exams,
it is now up to me to get the thesis written. So I find myself
drifting more & more to the library, & gradually centering
my reading around California History. As yet however I may hardly
be said even properly to have begun.
For the last couple of days I have shunned B & not wanted
to have anything to do with her. My resentment derives from my
own sense of insecurity at present, together with the fact that,
rather than relieving it, she has added to it, making me feel
unwanted here in the only place I can call home, & going out
frequently with assorted boy-friends, not coming home until late.
Her time has been mostly divided lately between her teaching work
& her friends. She generally has refused to come to bed with
me, saying she has to study, but often joins me in bed after I'm
already asleep. Just why she is behaving this way is not clear
to me. Perhaps it is a reaction against the possibility of legal
marriage, now that it has become the obvious next step in our
relationship.
Friday, August 3, 1962
(Written August 4) Hostilities with B reached a crisis this eve.
After another day spent mostly in the library, I had a long talk
with her (we drove & walked in the Point Richmond area) which
for a long time was very bitter on my part & very defensive
on hers, but gradually softened on hers. The crux of the matter
seems to be that she is now resolutely opposed to moving from
our present situation of living together as two "single"
people directly to one of being legally married to each other
. She wants to be wooed and won, to feel pursued, to have me strive
for her, and this of course is impossible while we're still living
together, so she wants me to move away & become a "suitor."
The fact that I can see a certain female logic in this blunts
my resentment somewhat. B has of late treated me badly, but not
because she doesn't love me. The only way now to improve the situation
is for me to move, & the sooner the better.
Saturday, August 4, 1962
11:30 a.m. I have just paid a deposit on a single "house-keeping"
room for myself, and at the moment I feel deeply unhappy about
it. The room is in the same house where I lived by myself for
a whole semester when we first came to Berkeley, at 2529 Dwight
Way. It seemed very appropriate for me to go back there. I took
a room across the hall from my old one. The room isn't as large
or as bright as my old one, but it has a refrigerator which my
old one doesn't now have.
My present unhappiness derives more from a feeling that that I
have not made a good choice of a place to which to move than out
of sadness & leaving B & this present place. The rent
is $40, which is not particularly good. Had I looked harder &
longer, I could probably have found something better. I'll have
to share a toilet with 5 other people. I have paid a $10 deposit.
It pained me to do it. And I can't even move in until Tuesday.
The more I think about it, I think I have made a mistake.
12:55 p.m. After writing the above, I decided to contact the Carricos.
Now I have been over there, & tried to make alternative arrangements
with them. We more or less agreed that I would make my temporary
home in my car in their driveway.
But I haven't yet tried to get my $10 deposit back, & this
second arrangement doesn't seem now any more appealing than the
first. The truth is that I am suffering real mental pain, &
seem incapable of handling the situation coolly & intelligently.
Each moment I see it in a different light. Right now, for example,
the Dwight Way deal seems not so bad. At least I will now have
a place of my own, where I can keep all my things. It already
has a telephone. There is a refrigerator, a sink, & a place
to cook. It is even closer (by a block) to the college than we
are here. I will still be close to B. I'll be able to study there.
Of course it won't be ideal, but then it's only to be temporary,
perhaps just for a month. What, anyway, am I worrying about? I
feel calmer now. The resort to the Carricos would be just panic
- a fear of being once more alone. All will work out. What I need
now is courage.
I have finally received a letter from Forrest E. Tregea, Executive
Director of the Associated Students , University of California,
in reply to my letter protesting about how I was treated at Cal
Lodge by Carl Levy a month ago, & asking for an explanation.
The "explanation" it gives is so unsatisfactory that
I would almost like to pursue the matter further, if it weren't
plainly futile to do so. According to Tregea, the real reason
why Levy asked me to leave was that "your work was not satisfactory."
But he wanted "to avoid hurting your feelings," and
therefore told me it was because of the expected arrival of a
group of ASUC managers for a work-weekend (and it was true that
they were coming.) I am told that "Mr. Levy has expressed
his sincere regrets for any impoliteness or curtness on his part.
He has asked me to tell you that it was not his intention to appear
other than most cordial to you."
It is very hard for me to believe that the reason I had to leave
was that my work wasn't good enough, although in ordinary circumstances
that would be the most plausible explanation. In the first place,
in my own opinion, I worked quite well, though perhaps not with
great speed. I can't think of anything those first 2 days which
would have justified dismissing me, especially without any warning.
Secondly Levy twice denied that this was the reason I had to go.
Thirdly, whatever the true reason, it is obvious that this is
the reason it would be easiest for him to give to anyone investigating
the situation. It is the one which obviously puts him most in
the right & me in the wrong. The idea that Levy treated me
the way he did in order to avoid hurting my feelings is quite
ludicrous & wholly implausible. But it seems now that I will
never learn the truth about the affair. I must simply accept the
fact that evil and injustice exist in the world, and that sometimes
even I can be a victim.
(Continuing August 5). In the afternoon, Larry Kirsch arrived
from Oroville. He had written asking if he could stay with us
for 18 days while he attends a summer session in San Francisco.
Thus he becomes an additional complication in our present situation,
& it isn't yet certain what will happen about him tonight.
It is easy for me to feel extremely bitter towards B right now.
Our long conversation last night made no change in her behavior
today - she was out with friends all day until 3:30 a.m., coming
home only to change in the early evening. It is only to easy to
feel that , after having served her purposes for several years,
I am now being rather heartlessly cast aside. But it is only when
she is not here that I can feel that way. When I see her, she
becomes merely weak and pathetic and laughable. The remarkable
thing is how deeply I am being affected by this whole situation,
which amounts to nothing more than her suggestion that we live
apart for a while.
Sunday August 5, 1962
10 p.m. Yesterday evening I went for a long walk with Larry, all
the way to Lake Merrit in Oakland & back, but it was all tinged
with sadness because of the unhappy state of my relations with
B. Today I continued to feel blue and sullen, and this eve had
another long talk with B, whose only definite result was to more
or less confirm my plan to move to Dwight Way on Tuesday, although
it is clear that in B's mind this constitutes a step towards marriage.
I finished writing an outline of the present state of my thinking
concerning my thesis topic. This in itself was a significant step
for me, since I'd been intending to do it for 2 months. The next
step is to get it approved by Mr. Bean.
Monday, August 6, 1962
11:30 p.m. AN UNEXPECTED ADVANCE. Today came a piece of unexpected
good fortune. In what seems to me a very peculiar way, I am to
be awarded a University Fellowship, and thus my academic position
and outlook is considerably improved; but the gain is not completely
clear-cut. This morning I went to see Mr. Bean to discuss my thesis
topic. He was all ready with a proposal to make to me. The proposal
was that instead of being a Teaching Assistant again for the coming
academic year (which would be my 3rd year at it) I should instead
be his Reader for his course in California History. Since this
would pay only about half of what I would make as a T.A., he was
prepared & was in a position to offer me a Fellowship as well,
the Panama Pacific Exposition Fellowship, which was worth $1000
or more, & would , together with the readership, bring my
income to only a little less than what it would have been as a
T.A. Since (according to him) much less work would be involved
than would my T.A. job, and that work, instead of being spread
out over the academic year, would now be concentrated on just
a few academic periods, there would be considerable gain in time
for me & I would be much freer to pursue my thesis research.
In addition (and this was something I had of late been much concerned
about) my work as a Reader in California History would be more
closely related to my thesis studies than would be a teaching
assistantship in a general American History survey course.
I immediately accepted the offer, though I was puzzled how it
could be made now, after I had already applied for a Fellowship
& been turned down earlier in the year (April). The way Bean
explained it, it is entirely within his power to grant or withhold
this particular Fellowship, & he had withheld it in order
that he might bestow it on his Reader, as he had done last year
with someone else.
So I am getting a readership-fellowship, & although I feel
that this is definitely an advance over being a Teaching Assistant
for a 3rd year, I still can't rejoice as much as if it were a
full $2500 fellowship that I was receiving. For one thing, I don't
look forward at all to having to mark 250 blue-books 3 times a
semester, which is solely what my job will consist of. Besides
being an utterly tedious task, it does not at the moment seem
to be a job requiring much less time & effort than being a
T.A. But a Fellowship, I hope, carries a certain amount of prestige
along with it, and the fact that Bean wants me to be his Reader
makes me feel good.
Although I received this news this morning, it was evening before
I could share it with anybody. It lifted my spirits so much that
I was fully prepared to patch things up with B. When she came
home, I asked her out to dinner, & we went to a restaurant
in San Francisco which was offering two meals for the price of
one (El Cid at Columbus & Broadway). It was there that I told
her about it, & she was very happy for me. I was hoping she
might now be willing, with my change of attitude, to abandon the
idea of our moving apart even temporarily; but she wasn't. She
feels that she is now passing through some sort of moral &
intellectual crisis, brought on by the imminence of marriage.
She is worried about making any commitment of loyalties, and insists
that she needs to be apart from me for a while in order to think
it all out. But at least we are on reasonably good terms again,
though we haven't had any kind of sex relations in bed now for
some time.
Victor Morales' papers finally arrived from Cannes, so, what with
moving tomorrow & starting work on them & going forward
in my new academic role, I have plenty to keep me busy.
I also received a letter & a gift of $10 from Grandma Adler
in Toronto, my only surviving grandparent, to whom I wrote recently.
Altogether things seem vastly to have improved today, although
it's really all in my mind.
Tuesday, August 7, 1962
(Written Aug 8) THE MOVING OUT Today I moved alone from the home
which I have shared for over 2 years with Barbara, upstairs at
2505 Parker St (at the corner of Parker & Regent) in Berkeley.
And I moved back to the same building (though not the same room)
from which I had moved to live with B on Parker St. - an old and
decrepit house at 2529 Dwight Way, just a block away. Thus ended
the longest comparatively "settled" period I have know
since I left my parents' home in England in April 1954.
What's to come is still unsure, but what seems likely is that
B herself will move from Parker within a few days to bachelor
quarters somewhere, & then after living apart for a while
we will become legally married & seek a new place together.
Larry Kirsch helped me move, & shared the double bed with
me in my new place, at least for this first night. He is taking
a summer session course in San Francisco. My spirits were generally
high, since I was still happy over yesterday's news.
My new room consists of a "living-room" part and a small
kitchenette with 2 gas burners & a tiny sink. Larry &
I spent some time sweeping, cleaning, & dusting the place
before I moved in. The furniture is poor & inconvenient, except
for the bed, which is large & comfortable. The walls are very
drab. The windows look out upon trees & other buildings. I
doubt if I will want to stay here long, even if B wishes us to
remain separated. Still, if I put my mind to it, there is much
I could do to make the place liveable.
I went to a lecture by Robert R. Palmer on the French & American
Revolutions this eve, but didn't find it interesting. Perhaps
my mind was too much on other things.
******************************************************************************
EPILOGUE
Barbara and I continued to see each other for some time after
this, but we never lived together again. Eventually I learned
that she had married George Weider. They stayed together. She
died in 2015.