Monday, July 25, 2011

St. Louis University Grad School 02

Difficulties, financial and academic, characterized the next year of grad school. The financial part was simple. Without the teaching assistantship, Sandy and I weren’t going to make enough teaching part-time at Harris for us to live. So, I had to take out several small loans to cover the tuition. I hated to do it but had no other choice. Towards the end of the semester (some time in late March or early April), I was so worried about money that I began looking for a job. One of my professors told me the CIA had contacted him a day or so previously and asked if he could recommend a student for a job. He wondered if I would be interested. After thinking for a few seconds I said I would. And so began my short and strange dance with the spooks.
Perhaps a week later I had a brief interview with a CIA rep I barely recall. He gave me an application and said if I was interested in being considered I should fill out the application and mail it. Which I did. It was the longest and most detailed application I would ever see.
A couple weeks after mailing it I received a phone call setting up a time on the next Saturday for me to come to the University and take a pre-employment exam. I agreed. The exam was complex and took four hours. Afterwards, I turned it in to the proctor and left. Two weeks later I received another call setting up a second exam for the following Saturday. That one took eight hours, not counting an hour lunch break. A couple weeks after that I was invited to a long interview with another CIA representative. I though it went well. He told me that if the evaluation was positive I would be hearing from him. Shortly after that he called and told me the Agency had tentatively approved me for a national security background check, which was for a Top Secret clearance. Whoa. The FBI would interview my family, past and present neighbors, teachers, professors, and friends. I had to call everyone I knew and warn them.
The FBI did interview everyone I had listed on the application and then some. For damned sure. After a couple months I received a call from the CIA agent who had conducted the second interview. He offered me a job as a photogrammetry analyst and said I would spend the first six months getting advanced photo and satellite analysis training at a CIA installation somewhere in Indiana and then would start working at the headquarters in Langley, Virginia.
That’s when I told him I had changed my mind and was no longer interested in working for the CIA. Oh, shit, the man didn’t take rejection well. He raised his voice and told me the government had wasted $50,000 on the interview process and how dare I lead the Agency on a wild goose chase. He was royally pissed off and let me know in no uncertain terms. I told him I had re-thought my interest and decided the Agency wasn’t right for me, especially considering what was happening in Vieetnam and hung up before he could further erode the lining of my inner ear.
The academic difficulty centered on a course in techniques of geographic research taught by Jack Licate, a young professor who had a BS from SLU and was fresh from doctoral studies the University of Chicago, one of the most prestigious Geography departments in the country. He was extremely intelligent and more than a bit squirrely. Today, the word would be geeky but back then squirrely hit that nail on the head. His course was really stimulating and I liked it the best of all my courses. I earned all As on the many papers that were due, one a week as I remember it. But when the final paper came due I was not in the right frame emotionally, worrying about money was one of the numerous more important things on my mind, so I decided to sort of blow it off. Seeing that I had a sure A by that point. So I turned in what I knew was a mediocre effort.
Several weeks later the grades were mailed home. I opened the letter, read the report, and went ballistic. Licate had given me a C. It was the only C I had ever received in any geography course. After ranting and raving in what amounted to a blind rage, I called his number at the university. To my surprise he answered and I sort of calmly asked him why the grade. He gave me some song and dance about me not taking the course seriously and maybe I should come in to his office the next day and we could talk about it face to face.
When I showed up at his office I was still steaming. He started with the same bullshit about me not taking the course seriously and I interrupted and demanded to know how all As in every paper other than the final could possibly equal a C. He told me the grade was a reflection of my understanding of geographic research as was demonstrated by the final assignment. He said that I was coasting and not putting in the effort graduate school demanded.
That’s when I lost it and started yelling at him. I literally told him he was full of shit and that he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. After about fifteen minutes of me ranting and cursing and him just calmly sitting there, probably dazed that a student would speak to him like that, I told him I would take the issue up with the Dean of Arts and Sciences because the final mark he gave me couldn’t be supported by the grades I earned throughout the course. And stormed out.
Even though I was hugely pissed off I knew deep down that he was right. I had been coasting and had blown off that assignment. After stewing about it over the summer I decided not to go to the dean after all but to enroll in whatever course Licate was going to be teaching the next semester and do well. Which I did. On that first day of class, when he walked into the room and saw me sitting in the first row, his eyes opened wide. I knew he was more shocked than surprised. To make a long story short, I received an A in that course and in the next one I took from him. And the letter of recommendation he wrote almost certainly was part of the reason I was accepted into grad school for a PhD.
The next semester I enrolled in only one more grad course and started working full-time as a marketing representative for Shell Oil Company. Dick Patterson, who at that time owned eight or nine gasoline service stations in the St. Louis area and the largest Shell station in the Midwest outside of Chicago, was responsible for getting me the interview with the District Manager.
I did well on that interview and was invited to Chicago for the next one. A week later I was hired to work in Shell’s Central Region (Chicago) but they decided to have me go through a year of training in St. Louis before moving to the Windy City. That situation suited me perfectly since my goal was to get into a good grad school for doctoral work and to hell with Shell.
For the next ten months I worked in Shell’s St. Louis District Office, learning the oil business. I did everything from working in a station for a week, to spending a week at the Wood River Refinery, to a week riding in a delivery truck holding 8,000 gallons of product, two months working in the office with the financial manager and the TBA (tires-batteries-accessories) guy, a month with the real estate guy, and four or five months shadowing first one than another marketing rep.
The only interesting thing that happened in the hugely boring ten months occurred one day when the real estate guy (who I had known from grade school) turned up sick and I was at loose ends. The Assistant Manager gave me a bunch of make work to keep me busy and out of his office. Around 3:00 he told me to read the lease agreement for the new district office the company was moving into within three months. I was irritated since I knew it was just bullshit until 5:00 rolled by and I would be out of his hair. But I sat at the small desk and carefully read the entire document, start to finish, including the lengthy appendices. That’s when I perked up and turned back to the main body of the lease. I re-read one part, turned to the appendix I had just read, and re-read it. Both sections referred to extensive storage space and how the cost was to be calculated in the yearly rent since that space could expand or contract as Shell required more or less space.
In short, the two passages contradicted themselves. The initial part calculated the rent one way while the appendix calculated it in another, totally different manner. It didn’t take a genius or a business major to see the two sections were at odds. Actually, the way the main part of the lease was written, Shell would pay almost double for the storage space when compared to the way the cost was calculated in the appendix.
I took the lease to the Assistant Manager and told him about the problem. He laughed and said in a condescending tone there was no way. The lease had been approved by the Central Marketing Division HQ in Chicago, the North American HQ in New York, and the international HQ in London. It was a done deal. He gave me a patronizing smile and said not to worry about it.
Instead of departing with my tail between my legs I opened the lease to the part describing the storage space and asked him to read it. Then I turned to the appendix and pointed to the formula and didn’t say a word. He read it, read it again, and then turned back to the original clause. “Son of a bitch,” was his only comment before thanking me and hurrying to his boss’s office.
Several months after I left the company, Dick Patterson showed me a Shell marketing brochure. One of the things it covered was a Shell Oil awards banquet in New York. A picture in the brochure showed the Assistant Manager receiving a check and a plaque from the North American CEO for finding a mistake in a lease that could have cost Shell several hundreds of thousand dollars. Oh well.
All throughout the time I worked at Shell I thought about applying to grad school. Sandy was not supportive since she was adamantly opposed to leaving St. Louis. After considerable reflection, I had requested and filed out applications to five grad schools for a doctorate in geography: Chicago, Wisconsin, Kansas, Michigan, and Florida. Each required a payment of $25 for processing. You might not think that a significant sum but $25 in 1967 had the same buying power as $166 in 2011. So, effectively I would have had to lay out the equivalent of about $830 in today’s money. And we were poor as church mice.
One night in anger and depression after a fight with Sandy over money I tore up four of the five applications and the checks I had included and threw them in the trash. The fifth, to the University of Florida, I had mailed the day before or it would have been destroyed as well. And was depressed as hell since teaching at the university level was the only life I wanted.

Jack Licate approached me in mid-winter and asked if I had been considering applying to graduate schools to work on a doctorate. I sighed and told him the sad story. He said that if I was still interested in pursuing an education he would contact Marvin Mikesell, his advisor at the University of Chicago. Holy shit, I nearly fell on the floor.

First, although fairly young, Mikesell was a huge name in cultural geography, one of the brightest stars in that constellation. He was one of the geographers who were at the forefront of changing how the academic world looked at geographers. Second, Licate was the guy who gave me a C in his course on geographic methods and still would recommend me to Mikesell. Jesus.
Of course, I would be VERY interested. Jack said he would see what he could do and would get back to me. When I left his office I was walking on air. Literally.
Probably two months went by before Jack asked me to come to his office. Once I was seated he told me that Mikesell was interested in my coming to Chicago. But all the TA and RA slots had been allocated for the Fall Semester because I had not applied within the appropriate time period. Shit, I didn’t know that I had applied at all. But, Jack continued, if I could enroll as a grad student in the Fall Semester Mikesell was certain I would get departmental financial support in the Winter Semester and from there on.
I didn’t know whether to breath or die on the spot. The University of Chicago was easily in the top five schools of geography in the world. Its reputation was stellar. Graduation with a Chicago PhD was a near guarantee of a good job at a first-class institution, or so I thought at the time. Going there had been a dream of mine for many years. I must have mumbled something to Jack on the order of thanks for going to bat for me and I’ll get back to you after I talk to my wife and ran straight to the library. Before the days of the internet, that’s where you went to dig up information. The recollection makes me smile.
The first thing I did was locate a Univ. of Chicago grad catalog and look up the tuition. My eyes nearly popped out. Annual graduate tuition was between $5,000 and $6,000, depending on the number of hours you took. My heart dropped like a stone. [Author’s Note: In today’s dollars that would have been anywhere from $40,000 to $70,000] No way in hell could I afford even one semester’s tuition. Even if I enrolled in the minimum number of hours the tuition would be close to $2,500. And that didn’t count the outlay for books and fees, which universities always hit you with. No possible way. Even if both San and I worked full-time it would be close. And since she was already pregnant and expecting in mid-May we would have three mouths to feed and no family in Chicago to babysit while we worked.
That afternoon I took the bus home rather than wait for San to pick me up from the campus. I was too dejected to talk to her. I had come face to face with my dream and the bubble popped almost before I could revel in the possibilities. Years later San told me she thought I held it against her for not being able to go to Chicago. In a way I did because if I hadn’t torn up that application to Chicago I might have had a strong shot at a fellowship. But, you never know. Life is filled with uncertainties. And, if I was upset about not going to that Mecca of geography, that resentment faded many decades ago.
Four months later I received a letter from James R. Anderson, chairman of the Florida Geography Department, offering me a grad teaching assistantship. I was in heaven. Although Sandy was distinctly not happy, I called Anderson the next day and accepted. We were on our way to Florida. Yes!

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Progressive vs. Conservative Worldviews

Well before the November 2010 elections I thought the time was appropriate to reflect on what political labels mean in the real world while ignoring increasingly ugly aspersions cast by ideological opponents. My purpose was to take a no-nonsense look at the traits and ideals that are characteristic of Americans who hold conservative and liberal world views. I was eager to understand why people in both camps who appear to be rational in other aspects of their lives hold political points of view that they seldom analyze. What I found is very briefly summarized in the following pages.

At their core, political conservatives base their ideology on what social psychologists have recently identified as five moral standards: harm/care, fairness/justice, hierarchy/authority/respect, loyalty/tradition, and purity/sanctity. That ideology is individualistic by nature and positioned in staunch opposition to a strong national government. Liberal ideology is largely based on two moral standards: harm/care and justice (fairness, reciprocity, rights, and equality leavened with compassion and tolerance) and is more collective than individual.

Conservatives are more committed to individual liberty and curing society's ills through individuals’ choices to better themselves and others. Liberals are more committed to individual equality under the law and seek to ameliorate society's ills through targeted government intervention. Because of those and other critical differences, conservatives view powerful centralized government with deep suspicion and even loathing. Liberals, on the other hand, see centralized government as a marvelous opportunity to affect change for the greater good.

As a life-long leftist, I must admit both to a curiosity about and an almost visceral distrust of political conservatism. Please note that while intellectually I understand the concepts of in-group loyalty/distrust of outsiders, purity/sanctity, and hierarchy/authority, recognizing them as part of the defining foundations of conservatism, I have relatively little sympathy for them. Which, of course, is a reflection of my personality and innate principles since I respond much more strongly to moral issues associated with protection/care and fairness/justice.

Author’s Note: A fascinating test that will indicate where you fit on the modern political spectrum can be found by following the link below. For full disclosure, my scores are: Economic Left/Right: -7.75 and Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -7.64. http://www.politicalcompass.org/test. As a step toward self awareness I highly recommend taking the test. Another web site that explores where individuals stand on numerous moral and political issues may be found at: http://www.yourmorals.org/.


The problem is both conservatives and liberals are strongly convinced they, and only they, are on the side of the angels. As a direct result of those deeply held convictions, both sides spout “facts” that support their positions while ignoring or denigrating other “facts” that do not. If you pay attention to the travesty that constitutes cable news commentary on Fox News, MSNBC, and occasionally CNN, you know the salient reality: the louder you shout and the more effectively drown out your opponent, the greater likelihood you will “win” the argument and be proved “right.” Which is idiocy, pure and simple, whether your name is Bill O’Reilly, Keith Olbermann, or Joe/Jane Lunch-Box.

We have stopped talking to each other and, far worse for our future, we no longer listen to those with whom we disagree. We shout our points of view with little regard for rationality or civility. From my vantage point, the critical political problem for the U.S. in 2010 and coming years seemed straightforward: if our myriad problems have any chance of being positively addressed both sides need to engage in genuine civil discourse and acknowledge that no single political ideology has a lock on "truth" or moral rectitude.

When I first embarked on this effort, I was convinced both conservatives and liberals must, as a first step, understand what their opponents believe. That conviction meant we all must work hard at stepping outside our protective shells of self-righteousness and certitude to see the full dimensions of the other’s viewpoint. Regardless of what we believe as individuals, our political opponents are like us, convinced our position is the only correct one. To admit the slightest weakness or uncertainty regarding a specific policy or program (like Social Security or payments to the unemployed) is to invite attacks from opponents as well from like-minded ideologues intent on toeing the party line. I thought that only open and honest dialogue could take us past the present impasse to a middle ground that does not require either side to abandon deeply held beliefs.

After nearly two months of reading and reflecting about what it means to be conservative and liberal, I was blindsided by an insight not previously considered. Four very significant problems contradict the seemingly sage position cited above. First, in terms of practicality, almost no one will do it. Second, doing so would run against key conservative personality traits. Third, political ideologies are not based on rationality thus their adherents will not respond to interactions that rely on reason or logic. The fourth issue also involves rationality and is discussed below.

As far as the first problem is concerned, we’re very happy disliking, demeaning, and attacking people with whom we don't agree and bonding with those with whom we do. We seem disinclined to change those behaviors. Each side knows they are right and their opponents are a combination of dishonest bastards and dumb fuckers. It’s that simple, especially where politics are concerned.

For a fascinating but, for me, ultimately disappointing evaluation of the moral basis of politics and what has been proposed as a way out of our present dilemma, see: http://www.ted.com/talks/jonathan_haidt_on_the_moral_mind.html. See also the work of psychologists Jonathan Haidt and Jesse Graham, "When morality opposes justice: Conservatives have moral intuitions that liberals may not recognize." Online source: http://faculty.virginia.edu/haidtlab/articles/haidt.graham.2007.when-morality-opposes-justice.pub041.pdf.

Here's a real world example of people happily attacking those with whom they do not agree and in the process irrationally denying part of the moral foundations that supposedly define who they are. Many millions of conservatives claiming to be God-fearing, church-going, fundamentalist Christians vigorously applauded the U.S. Justice Department's definition of torture as only actions that "must be equivalent in intensity to the pain accompanying serious physical injury, such as organ failure, impairment of bodily function, or even death." Here's what that definition means in real life: when I attach one electrode to an enemy combatant's penis and the other to his nipple and then deliver one severe electrical shock after another or shove bamboo splinters under his fingernails and set them on fire, those same self-professed, God-fearing Christians fervently profess not to believe that I'm committing acts that are torture, illegal/immoral, or prohibited by international treaties to which the U.S. is signatory. If those scenarios do not blow your mind then you already must have realized that people who have intense loyalty to members of their in-group (in this case patriotic fellow Americans) have little to no regard for the personal well-being or safety of members of an out-group (potential Muslim terrorists) and that intense patriotism/loyalty is a far more significant and deeply held “moral” precept than their vaunted Christianity. Anyone wonder what Christ would think of that “reasoning?” Actually, many conservatives would say, "Yeah, Jesus would OK that." Seriously.

With respect to the second reason for my change of mind, it may come as no surprise that I disagree entirely with Jonathan Haidt’s well-meaning conclusion that the wall separating conservatives and liberals can be taken down brick by brick by each understanding the other’s concerns. The major problem Haidt fails to recognize or address is that conservatives as a group have never valued open-mindedness or tolerance for diversity of opinion. So, asking them to be open-minded or tolerant with respect to liberal beliefs or to be positive about changing the world for the better flies in the face of the very personality traits and "moral precepts" that make them conservative in the first place. Thus, dialogue would be a waste of time and effort unless liberals alone would be expected to compromise their values. Which is the precise position political conservatives have taken in Washington. Witness what is happening in Washington as of mid- to late-July 2011.

The third reason I believe dialogue between conservatives and liberals would prove non-productive in terms of achieving genuine understanding is political ideologies are not based on reason. According to Haidt and many other social psychologists, ideology is based on innate moral principles that enable adherents to distinguish between right and wrong. Most conservatives are moral realists who believe in the existence of true moral statements that report objective moral facts and deny that cultural norms and customs define morally right behavior. Most liberals are moral relativists who believe that right behavior has no correct or universal definition and that morality can only be judged with respect to the standards of particular belief systems and socio-historical contexts. In either case, attempts to use reason and understanding as a basis for effective communication are bound to fail since, for conservatives, the dialogue comes down to good v. evil.

The fourth reason that constructive dialogue is impossible is that when people, for whatever reasons, refuse to recognize reality, meaningful exchange will never occur. Black is white, white is black. Waterboarding is not torture. Our healthcare system is the best in the world. Trickle-down economics and the free market work financial miracles. Evolution is a figment of Darwin's imagination. The Earth is between 6,000 and 10,000 years old. America does not have a handgun problem. Global warming/climate change caused by humans doesn't exist. Scientists are all charlatans and liars. No amount of evidence will change those beliefs because they are not based on objective rationality. And liberals are supposed to dialogue with people who believe and spout such ridiculous nonsense? Hello Alice in Wonderland.

Does hope spring eternal in the hearts of conservatives or are they willfully blind and deaf to reality because doing so suits their ideological bent and deeply held personality characteristics? The latter is my personal assessment. Therefore, what possible good would it do for leftists/liberals to put effort into understanding their political opponents’ points of view? None. What. So. Ever.

Here’s a personal example. A man I respect and regard as a friend and who I worked with for nearly ten years is a very conservative Republican. About two or so years ago, when the debate over some sort of national healthcare system was firing up, my conservative friend and I engaged in a lengthy e-mail discussion of the problems with healthcare in America. Naturally, given my leftist convictions, I argued that we needed a government-regulated system, a position he adamantly opposed. After I ranted about the historically abysmal ranking of the U.S. in a broad array of medical statistics with respect to other industrialized nations, my friend wrote back that the best way for adequate healthcare to be delivered to all Americans was through free market functions. I was astounded and aghast. His email was written after collapse of the economy in the Great Recession of 2007-2008 and even after the once venerable Alan Greenspan recanted his previous Milton Friedman look-alike economic ideology, hung his head in public ignominy, and admitted to Congress that the market was in obvious need of more stringent government regulations to control Wall Street’s immeasurable greed.

In my eyes, then and now, our present healthcare system can only be characterized as fatally flawed, condemning the poor and uninsured to suffer illness and death at rates far higher than any other major industrialized nation and far higher than would be the result even if the fictitious “Death Panels” would have been organized and run under the new government-sponsored healthcare program (a vicious slander perpetrated by conservatives). Yet, my friend saw the same system as highly efficient, providing the best medical technology in the world.

Even though I readily admitted my friend was right about the technology aspect and post-diagnosis efficacy, at least for those who have employer-based medical insurance or Medicare, he refused to acknowledge our present system was characterized by flaws and constraints in access to healthcare that callously and regularly result in denied coverage and excess illnesses and deaths. No matter how many decades of medical statistics documented how poorly and consistently we have performed as a nation, those flaws either were figments of my leftist imagination or just didn't matter in terms of our world-class healthcare system. He simply refused to see the inequities.

I’m convinced that attempts by conservatives and liberals at dialogue, no matter how well intentioned, will do no good whatsoever in terms of an open exchange of ideas. After all, what good is it if l understand the conservative point of view since I do not find it credible or even based on rationality or on real-world honesty? Because for all too many conservatives rationality plays no part in the discussion. That said, as a professional urban/regional planner whose work was always grounded in rigorous data collection and analysis, I have never based my political or socioeconomic beliefs on a refusal to honestly examine and engage real-world conditions. That is why it astounds me that many of not most conservatives refuse to accept any number of evidence-based positions (evolution, global warming, the age of the universe/Earth, dating of geological materials, etc.). It has gotten to the point where millions of conservatives believe science itself has been politicized and must be attacked as a bastion of liberalism.

Today, we occupy a mind-warp in which an enormous number of Americans have stopped thinking and only react to political stimuli on a visceral/primitive level that excludes, overrides, or minimizes rationality. We no longer are concerned with anything that could be identified as "objective truth" but only with selective so-called "facts" that support our position. That way we can defend Charlie Rangel's outrageous actions because he's a life-long Democrat and needs liberal support. Or defend Tom DeLay's outrageous actions because he’s a life-long Republican and needs conservative support. Or champion the astonishingly empty-headed Sarah Palin or Michelle Bachmann or Jim DeMint for whatever pseudo-reasons people trump up. It's an utterly bizarre world when we are convinced, deep in our hearts, that shit is 24-carat gold.

Although people today seldom read plays, especially those written 50 years ago, Eugène Ionesco's "Rhinoceros" has an eerie, contemporary feel. In that play, people are transformed into rhinoceroses and start following the rhinoceritis political movement. They can no longer speak but bellow and delight in trampling humans. What better metaphor could we have for our contemporary situation with Republicans eager to drive the country into default rather than to compromise on taxes?

Today, to complete the irony—or is it absurdity?—Tea Party supporters see liberals as unthinking rhinoceroses. Hello Barack Obama and Nancy Pelosi; the list goes on and on. And liberals see anyone they classify as right-wing nut jobs as unthinking rhinoceroses. Hello Jim DeMint and John Boehner; the list goes on and on.

With unerring accuracy, Ionesco put his finger on the problem:

People allow themselves suddenly to be invaded by a new religion, a doctrine, a fanaticism . . . At such moments we witness a veritable mental mutation. I don't know if you have noticed it, but when people no longer share your opinions, when you can no longer make yourself understood by them, one has the impression of being confronted with monsters—rhinos, for example. They have that mixture of candor and ferocity. They would kill you with the best of consciences.

That's where we are today. Even though I know on a theoretical plane it's appropriate to engage my right-wing friends in dialogue, I am convinced such actions would be absolutely counter-productive. The only result may likely be for them to hold their conservative beliefs even more strongly.

Of course, I have other problems with conservatism. Here's a big one. Understanding the well-documented characteristics of conservatives to be closed minded, prefer tradition over change, and believe in authoritarianism, gender hierarchy, and social dominance will never lead me to accept the implications of those values, which I reject outright and regard as suspicious at every level and verging on the flat-out immoral. Needless to say, I do not recognize those beliefs as having significant moral values, especially since their practice has historically resulted in one group wielding power and dominion over others, usually with the dominant group using violence or the threat of violence to control subdominant-groups. People who strongly believe in authority, order, and stability, even with adverse costs to “others” not included in their in-group, are highly unlikely to change their belief system simply because they want to "understand" where liberals are coming from. All of which I believe points to the weaknesses of the moral foundation position of psychologists like Jonathan Haidt.

Only now do I understand the invisible wall separating liberal and conservative ideologies. No way can I bridge that separation. Fundamentally, my conservative friends and I have nothing more to say to each other. We no longer communicate on a meaningful level, if ever we did.

Of course that impasse has filled me with ambiguity. I still have affection and respect for many conservative friends. But that didn't and doesn't make me rush to the phone or e-mail, to reach out to heal the wounds. In my heart I know those actions would not result in substantive changes to our respective political positions or in our convictions. I cannot understand their point of view and they, obviously, cannot fathom why I believe what I do. I see the world one way, my conservative friends see it another. Perhaps those differences arise from personality traits, though I firmly believe they are even deeper seated. In any case, it is as if we live on parallel universes that do not intersect or interact. So be it.

The conclusions reached above, combined with my judgment that the American political system is one of the most inherently corrupt and morally bankrupt on Earth, have led to a decision to pull back from political interactions. Regardless of what that charming chameleon, Obama, has said, for meaningful political change to occur, the America we live in will have to wait until a monster tsunami-like wave flushes away the current political system wherein oceans of campaign money corrupt nearly every elected representative at state and national levels. A hypothetical that, of course, has extraordinarily little chance of seeing reality.

So, why just stop talking to your political opponents, indeed, why vote? It's a meaningless charade when your only option is to vote for the least horrible choice. Then hold your nose while waiting for the inevitable piece of shit to be dropped on your dinner plate and pretend it's something else entirely. Tax breaks for the filthy rich are great for the entire country and for the economy. Try changing that steaming turd into a palatable morsel. Yeah. Better to give up false hopes and find solace waiting for Godot.

Like Mark Twain, I am supremely confident of one thing: Washington politicians on both sides of the aisle will continue bending over backward to prove they are conscienceless hypocrites who gleefully pad their pockets and those of their base and campaign contributors at the nation's expense.


*     *     *

While I was in the initial stages of investigating the differences between the two main opposing American ideologies, I compiled the following summary of what it means to be conservative and liberal. It should be noted that the points presented are brief rather than lengthy and are not meant to be all-inclusive. Many of those points, if not most, have been culled directly from web sites devoted to explaining differences between conservative and liberal ideologies. Despite my avowedly leftist nature, in describing conservatism I have made an effort to be objective and not load up on pejoratives or knee-jerk labeling. If you are conservative you should be able to find plenty in the first list that pleases you. If you are strongly leftist or merely lean left, many of the points in the list of progressive values should strike a resonant chord. Independents should find much to like and detest on both lists.

Remember, such lists are never perfect, no matter who compiles them.

Specific Positions Many Conservatives Advocate

  • Reduce national and state governments, slash Federal spending, balance the budget, cut the deficit, and deregulate business.
  • Conservatives want to lower taxes across the board for individuals and businesses and eliminate the “Death” Tax and thus shrink government at all levels. It would be better to bring down the government than to raise taxes.
  • A powerful centralized government threatens the individual, family, and private institutions and seeks uniformity and absolute compliance. Government, by its very nature, tends to be inefficient, incompetent, wasteful, and power hungry.
  • An originalist interpretation of the U.S. Constitution should be adopted.
  • America is truly exceptional, a shining city on a hill—a place apart where a better way of life exists, one to which all other peoples and nations should aspire.
  • Repeal or revise drastically Obamacare; strongly support free market mechanisms in the healthcare effort.
  • Restructure Medicare and Social Security as required by fiscal necessity and open both to significantly more free market functions (privatization).
  • Strengthen the military and the nation by increasing defense spending.
  • War—or the credible threat of first-strike military action—is an acceptable solution to many of America’s international problems.
  • Vigilant patriotism is a must—America, right or wrong. America first. Support the troops. America, land of the free, home of the brave. America, love it or leave it.
  • Dissent is not patriotic. Criticizing America while we are engaged in armed conflict is betrayal or treason.
  • Government should emphasize law and order to control the unruly, lawless, and godless elements in society.
  • Liberal efforts to increase government regulation of business and the economy are forms of socialism that must be resisted.
  • Individual liberty is strongly preferred over individual equality.
  • Duty, respect, and obedience are critical civic virtues. Bumper stickers that urge people to "question authority" and protests that involve civil disobedience are antisocial, un-American, and dangerous, not heroic.
  • Equality is best sought through exercise of the free market, not through government laws, regulations, or programs that restrict those who are in superior positions.
  • Inequality is the natural order of things. Human beings, in terms of innate talents and personal attributes, are inherently unequal and a social hierarchy is a natural consequence of that inequality.
  • Poverty is largely caused by negative individual personality traits and character defects—including laziness, poorly developed intellectual ability, complaisance, and the lack of competitiveness, frugality, self-discipline, and self-reliance, etc.—not by structural socioeconomic conditions.
  • By their nature human beings need structure and constraint to flourish; institutions like organized religion, marriage and the family, authority/law and order, and social hierarchy, etc. provide those benefits.
  • Chaste, spiritually minded, and religious people are virtuous and morally superior to those who are not.
  • Homosexuality is an unnatural abomination, a lifestyle choice people freely make; those who practice it commit inherently repugnant and evil acts. Morally, homosexual acts are much the same as incest and bestiality. Same sex unions are a direct threat to marriage and the family.
  • A worldview that proposes "If it feels good, do it" is the philosophy of the devil.
  • Conservatives are generally much more favorable of control and punishment than of personal freedom and diversity.
  • The Second Amendment right to keep and bear arms is a foundational element as long as such possession does not threaten national security.
  • Evolution is either a flawed theory or an unsubstantiated fiction; Intelligent Design and Young Earth theories should be taught in public school science classes as viable/valid alternatives to evolution.
  • No chain of causality links legal, easily-obtainable handguns and high murder rates. People kill people; guns are merely one of many instruments of violence.
  • Border security and immigration laws should be tightened because of the adverse effects of illegal immigrants on American society. People who immigrate to America must live by our laws and by our way of life (culture).
  • Global temperatures are completely unaffected by fossil fuel emissions, which means the current climate change/global warming issue is, at best, a myth since its causes are natural, or, at worst, an out and out lie foisted on a gullible public by corrupt, liberal scientists.
  • The best way to manage the environment is to open natural systems to the actions of the free market; meaning logging companies should be able to clear-cut anywhere they please and oil companies should be able to drill where and when they like without governmental restrictions, etc.
  • Corporations never purposely injure anyone to make money and, given the appropriate free market environment, will take excellent care of their employees. Even if the actions of corporations might inadvertently injure people or they might treat their employees less than benevolently, the proper corrective measures should be meted out by an even-handed free market, not by government or by lawsuits brought by greedy trial lawyers. As a corollary, reform of the present tort system is a must.
  • The National Rifle Association is good for the country because it supports and affirms the Constitution; the American Civil Liberties Union is bad for the country because it distorts and weakens the Constitution.
  • Abortion is morally wrong since it kills human life and should be illegal.
  • U.S. involvement with and financial support of the United Nations should be greatly reduced.
  • The national news media (with the exception of Fox News) are systemically biased toward liberalism.
  • Repeal strict environmental laws, regulations, and enforcement since they cost too many jobs and damage the economy by reducing corporate profitability.
  • End all government public assistance and welfare programs; replace them where necessary with private individual, institutional, and corporate charity.

Specific Positions Many Liberals Advocate

  • Adopt a single-payer, national healthcare system.
  • Concepts like pluralism and toleration contribute to the development of liberty and should be promoted.
  • Strengthen Medicare and Social Security as required by fiscal prudence but prevent the privatization or gutting of those programs.
  • Reduce Social Security benefits for individuals with annual incomes greater than $250,000; eliminate benefits for individuals with annual earnings in excess of $1 million; for taxing purposes raise the annual income ceiling to $1 million.
  • Tightly regulate and make transparent all political campaign spending by wealthy individuals, corporations, unions, and special interests.
  • Oppose interventionist American foreign policies as well as first strike military action.
  • Reform U.S. immigration policies to effective enforcement, improved legal/approval processes for workers and employers, and a fair way to deal with those who are already in the U.S.
  • End the war in Afghanistan and bring the troops home (from Iraq as well).
  • Decrease current levels of defense spending by cutting unnecessary programs, downsizing overseas troop levels across the board; reduce the nuclear arsenal and end the space-based missile defense program.
  • Issue Presidential Orders forbidding the use of torture (water boarding and other similar techniques most other countries acknowledge as torture under the Geneva Convention), secret renditions of suspected terrorists, electronic surveillance absent court order, and targeted assassinations overseas.
  • Close the Guantánamo prison camp.
  • Abolish "Don't ask, don't tell" in the military.
  • Support disarmament treaties and the United Nations.
  • End the heinous practice of Presidential “signing” statements.
  • Normalize relations with Cuba.
  • Take a harder position with Israel with respect to the “Two State” solution and pressure Israel to remove settlements in the West Bank.
  • Support science-based regulation/enforcement by the EPA.
  • Support science-based regulation/enforcement by the Food and Drug Administration.
  • Significantly increase government policies and financial incentives to corporations for sustainable energy and pass legislation that would curb emissions of heat-absorbing gases.
  • Institute more federal regulations for Wall Street and the major banks to insure the economic collapse that led to the Great Recession of 2007-2008 never happens again.
  • Abolish the death penalty; make it more difficult to try children and youths as adults.
  • Liberals want to revise the tax code through progressive taxation to fund government. Which means adopting a code that is fairer and simpler than what is currently in place with lower corporate tax rates similar to what are currently in force in Western Europe.
  • Support labor unions and “union shop” laws.
  • Prohibit the teaching of Intelligent Design and Young Earth ideas in public school science classes.
  • Interpret the Constitution as a "Living" document, not one frozen in time.
  • Support more stringent state and local gun control laws.
  • Support government programs to rehabilitate criminals in society; reduce the number of the incarcerated.
  • Support taxpayer-funded public education system.
  • Establish a higher minimum wage and higher poverty level thresholds.
  • Support laws that combat prejudice, discrimination, and intolerance of differences and diversity (sex, race, ethnicity, national origin, religion, age, etc.); legalize same-sex marriage.
  • Legalize and regulate drugs in much the same way alcohol is today.
  • Eliminate government censorship of speech, publishing, news media, and the internet.
  • Restrain the exercise of government power in the "political" realm, such as the freedom of expression or right to privacy.
  • Seek expansive governmental powers in "economic" and "social" arenas in the name of protecting disadvantaged and less powerful groups that otherwise find themselves at the mercies of entrenched institutions and influential groups that historically have run roughshod over the weak and disenfranchised.
  • The government has no right to control your body so abortion and a voluntary decision to end your life should be legal.
  • Promote government policies to protect the less powerful. As a foundation of those policies, liberals believe a country is evaluated on the basis of how it cares for those of its citizens who struggle to care for themselves.
  • Free people from “oppressive” institutions, including governments, religious institutions, social caste or class, customs and traditions, or powerful financial/commercial interests.
  • Liberals embrace progressive societal and governmental change as both necessary and desirable for the betterment of the people.
  • Government is the only agent capable of applying rational problem-solving techniques to trenchant socioeconomic difficulties and having the authority to carry out such policies at the societal level.
  • Social and economic development ought not to be left to chance or to power-wielding groups that have been known to dominate political-economic systems.
  • A totally unregulated market economy runs counter to both equality and freedom from domination by business/financial interests.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Selective Service and Grad School 01

Selective Service
When I turned 18, like all young American men, I had to register with the U.S. Selective Service System, which is the legal name for the military draft. I gave it little thought since the military difficulties in Vietnam had not come close to crisis levels and as far as I knew no one was being drafted — by 1963, only 16,000 American military personnel were stationed in South Vietnam, up from Eisenhower's 900 advisors. Little thought that is until I started attending SLU. Even before getting the scoop from my ALGTS friends I knew that attendance at an accredited university bought me two years of student deferment status because that’s exactly what my draft card said. But after those two years expired and I became draft eligible, the dreaded 1-A classification, and nothing happened I promptly put it out of my mind.
As the date of our marriage approached in 1966, San and I found an apartment in South St. Louis City at 5020A Mardel Street. A quick digression is necessary here. As we were driving down Mardel early one Saturday afternoon we saw a small red FOR RENT sign in an upper window. The street was nice so we stopped and rang the bell.
An attractive young woman answered the door. When we told her we were interested in renting the apartment she invited us up, telling us her husband had just gone to the store and would be back in a minute or two. As we were climbing the stairs I whispered to San that the girl looked familiar. She agreed. When we got upstairs she showed us her year-old baby, whose name was Charlie.
That’s when someone came running up the stairs into the apartment. To my astonishment it was an old friend with the same name as mine, Bob Ernst. Bob and I had attended McBride High but he was one year ahead of me in my brother, Jack’s, class. After graduating he had gone to the Marianist’s Marynook Novitiate in Galesburg, Wisconsin. When I went there we played soccer, baseball, and softball on the same teams and became good friends. Several years later we ran into each other at SLU and renewed our friendship. And it turned out San knew his wife, Mary, from their high school, Rosati-Kain. It was an interesting reunion. Well, we rented the apartment and drove the mailman crazy for three months until their mail finally got straightened out. Back to the real story.
Somehow I got the idea that since I was moving from my parent’s house in North St. Louis to an apartment in South City I had to change draft boards. So, one summer morning in May 1966 I called the draft board and told whoever answered the phone that I wanted to change boards. I was told I had to come in and talk to a clerk. My appointment was for the following Tuesday at 10:00 AM. Great.
That next Tuesday I put on freshly pressed dress shirt and pants, tie, the only decent sport coat I owned, a pair of spit-polished black shoes and off to the U.S. Federal building I went. When I told a young woman at the information desk I had a 10:00 appointment with a clerk she directed me down the hall to Room whatever. When I arrived I took careful note of the title on the door: Clerk of the Board. Mercy. I wasn’t seeing any old clerk but what turned out to be the Executive Director of the Draft Board.
I knocked and entered a room as big as a small hockey rink. The proto-typical little old white woman was seated behind an enormous desk at the far end of the room. I walked across the room, introduced myself, and shook her hand. She told me to sit and asked the reason for my visit. I told her. Blah, blah, blah.
She hesitated a moment and then asked what I was doing with my life. I gave her the short version. I was graduating from SLU in a week or so, getting married July, and starting graduate school in the fall. My real goal was to get a master’s and doctorate and become a university professor.
She listened patiently and then in a voice devoid of expression told me that if I changed draft boards I would be drafted within two days. Because the board into which I was moving had NO young men of draft eligible age without deferments. Holy shit. Another body to be shoved into the Army’s Vietnam meat grinder. I nearly had a stroke and promptly swallowed my tongue.
Then she asked if I wanted her advice. Of course, I said, after pulling my tongue out of my throat and making sure my heart was beating. She told me I should write a letter informing her of my pending marriage and a temporary change in domicile. I should keep my parents house as my permanent residence because, as she said rather grimly, that year alone my draft board has more than a thousand draft eligible young men with nothing better to do with their lives than serve their country. If and when anything in changed my status all I had to do was send her another letter detailing those specifics. And she would keep my documents at the back of the draft eligible file. If the country declares war, she said, you’ll probably be drafted. But, failing an act of Congress, I should be able to pursue my graduate program. I nearly jumped across the desk and kissed her.
That started my letter writing program with the Clerk, whose name may have been Hazel H. Toerper, though due to the fog of time I’m not 100 percent certain. I sent her a wedding announcement. A letter documenting my move to a “temporary” address in south St. Louis. A birth announcement two years later when our son, David, was born. A copy of my acceptance letter to the doctoral program at the University of Florida. And finally, my new “temporary” address in married student housing in Gainesville.
Not long after arriving at the U of F and starting classes I got into a heated argument with a fellow leftist student in the sociology doctoral program who had an infant and had recently gotten divorced. As soon as the decree was final his vindictive ex-wife sent a copy to his Selective Service board. He was drafted a week later. He yelled at me and accused me of taking advantage of all the poor black young men in my draft board. I disagreed because I wasn’t doing anything but following the law. If the Clerk of the Board was protecting my ass it wasn’t because of anything I had done or asked to be done. It was pure serendipity on my part and I was thankful as hell no matter what reasons she had for protecting me. I had stumbled into a great deal and wasn’t about to fuck it up. He stomped off, visibly steaming. Two or three days later he shot and killed himself rather than submit to the draft. When I heard about his death, my first thought was, why the hell didn’t he go to Canada and fuck the draft? I would have in a heart beat. But those were desperate times if you hated what the American government was doing in Vietnam.
December 1, 1969, marked the date of the first Selective Service (draft) lottery held since 1942. But because I was 26, married, and with a child, I was not eligible for the lottery, especially since Congress had never declared war. Had I been eligible, my lottery number would have been 112 and my skinny white ass would have been drafted. But all those years that the Vietnam conflict went from nearly invisible to hot on all burners, that little old lady protected my ass. Without her wise counsel I would have exposed my tender body to the terrors of Boot Camp and then the rigors of military service. Although it was a coincidence, before the end of summer 1966 I was 100 percent opposed to the War and couldn’t imagine what I’d do if drafted, though Canada beckoned. I had been saved by my own personal, white-haired, Fairy Godmother.
After thinking long and hard about this situation, I’ve come to the conclusion that the U of F grad student who excoriated me for elitist behavior was right in many ways. No, I had not precipitated what transpired or even thought of the possibility of suggesting it to the Clerk of the Board. But I had directly benefited from the white privilege shared by the Clerk and me. Of course, I had no way of knowing if a white or black guy from my local draft board had been drafted in my place, so whether I had benefited unfairly from her action is still somewhat up in the air. Though it is certain that my local board had many more black registrants than white, so the chance of a black guy being sucked up in the draft instead of me was high indeed.
Did I even consider back then that I had benefited unfairly from the Clerk’s unanticipated patronage? Of course I did. But since I HATED the fucking Vietnam War I rationalized the actions of the Clerk and my acquiescence and simply put the situation out of my mind. I was tremendously relieved at not being forced to join the military or having to flee to Canada, a choice I thought about a great deal though I’ll never be certain if I would have followed through since Sandy strongly opposed it. Once I was safe from being drafted I did not allow myself to think about how that security had come about. Which is yet another example of how white privilege works in the real world and how whites fail to see it for what it is. So, yes, in at least some specific ways I knew I had benefited from white supremacy but didn’t give a shit since it was my very life that was at stake. I rationalized my behavior and refused to acknowledge reality. A great example of white supremacy hard at work.

Grad School
The summer of 1966 was filled with excitement and new adventures. In early June, with a strong recommendation from Dave Roth, one of my SLU profs who was an urban planner and had taught me in two courses in urban geography, I was hired by the St. Louis County Department of Planning to help modernize their land use and zoning records. It marked my first, full-time professional job as an urban planner. I worked for Allan Richter, a great guy and one of the best bosses I ever had. He was very bright and had a Master’s in planning from the University of Illinois knew urban planning to a T. Then, in late July Sandy and I were married. We basically had no money so the only honeymoon we could afford was four all too short days at the Tan-Tar-A Resort in the Lake of the Ozarks, returning to our “new” apartment on Mardel Avenue in south St. Louis.
When I started full-time at SLU in September I knew that the teaching assistantship wouldn’t bring in enough money so I wrangled a part-time teaching job at Harris Teachers College, which was located only four blocks east of SLU. Dick Patterson, an older geography grad student I met the first week at SLU, and I worked there together and became good friends. Harris was run by the St. Louis School Board as a training ground for its own teaching staff. Its reputation was less than stellar but the job was a source of much needed money, especially since Sandy’s secretarial job for a psychiatrist in Mid-Town St. Louis paid crap. And that assessment is very generous.
My duties as a TA were primarily focused on teaching the Physical Geography labs for Lee Opheim. It was easy because of all the courses I had taken in physical geography and in geology. It wasn’t long before I developed a relaxed teaching style and rapport with the students, who were only three or four years younger. That was when I broke out of the shell I had been in with regards to relating to young women. Until that time I had largely been shy and reticent around girls. Interacting with male and female students in the lab taught me that I knew a great deal more than any of them did about the subject and gave me confidence in talking to them. It was an incredible experience for me as I was aware of what was happening and enjoyed that new found freedom.
In many ways teaching at Harris turned out to be a blessing in disguise and a curse. First, the blessing part. The courses I was assigned were World Regional Geography and Urban Geography. The subject matter was easy for me but the students were on the difficult side. They were quite a bit different from the students at SLU. All were from the City of St. Louis. In racial composition about 60 percent were white and 40 percent black. It was my first experience working with black students. The racial part wasn’t troublesome but the average ability of students in every class was markedly lower that I was accustomed to at SLU. What the students didn’t know about geography and other topics astounded me. Over the course of the semester I had to change my syllabus several times because I was spending way too long explaining what I thought should be simple stuff everyone knew.
Another part of the blessing side was my contact with other teachers. In particular I loved talking with Eva Held, a grad student working on a PhD in sociology at SLU and also teaching at Harris part-time. Eva introduced me to a treasure of urban sociological and social-psychological books and articles I had lightly passed over as an undergrad. She opened my eyes to the world of urban sociology and I absolutely fell in love with it.
Another great experience was playing in the Harris touch football league. Every year students formed teams to play in the touch league. Theoretically teachers were invited to play but none had ever done so. That is until I agreed to play on the only racially integrated team in the league. The jock fraternity team had asked me to play for them but I turned them down since it was all-white and I wasn’t about to fall into that trap. Teams played twice a week in the late afternoon after most classes were over. Our team did well, winning all our games but one. At the championship game we played the jock frat team that had beaten us in the regular season. Practically the whole school turned out to watch the game. We won by one touchdown. It was the first time ever that the jock frat team had lost as well as the first time an integrated team played. We celebrated long and hard. I was terribly sore for two days but every ache hurt sooooooo good.
Now for the curse part. Late in that school year three teachers and their spouses were invited to be chaperones at the annual end of the school year dance. It wasn’t a “prom” but everyone wore tuxes and formals. Dick Patterson and I volunteered as did Judy B and her husband. Judy was Professor Conoyer’s daughter and had graduated from SLU with a master’s in geography so we knew her fairly well.
To make a long story short, the Pattersons and Sandy and I sat together at the dance and had a good time. Sometime around 12:30 AM Mary Ellen Patterson went to the Ladies Room and returned a few minutes later absolutely livid. She had nearly stumbled over two couples on a stairway going at it hot and heavy. When she remonstrated with them she quickly realized they were royally drunk and took offense at their rough language (I’m fairly certain they told her to fuck off). No big surprise but the students had all signed pledges not to drink since many underage couples would be in attendance. Dick and I tried to calm Mary Ellen down but she was steamed and insisted we DO something since we were responsible for the students’ behavior.
Dick and I searched the crowd and while doing so witnessed several incidents of booze being consumed. After a few minutes we found to the senior who was the chief organizer of the dance. When we reported the situation he laughed in our faces about the drinking and blew us off in no uncertain terms, telling us it happened every year. Why don’t you just leave, he suggested. Then you won’t officially know anything.
We couldn’t do that. Not after seeing evidence the students were drinking. That’s when Dick and I called the police and reported dozens of underage kids drinking at the dance. And promptly told the dance organizer the cops were on the way and would arrest anyone underage who was loaded or was in possession of alcohol. Well, that cleared out the place in less than fifteen minutes. Everyone was royally pissed off at us, that’s for sure. But we went home thinking we had done the right thing. Keep in mind the salient fact that no good deed goes unpunished.
The following Monday Dick and I wrote a report about what had happened at the dance and sent it to the President of the College. We were called in the next day to his office and were told that students had reported that Dick and I and our wives had been drinking during the dance and were inebriated. Holy shit. I was shocked since nothing was further from the truth. The four of us had had a single cocktail at the Pattersons house prior to the dance and nothing after that. Not one more drop.
To our amazement Judy B said that neither she nor her husband had observed any inappropriate behavior on the part of the students and did not believe any underage students had been drinking. She thought we were mistaken and wrong for ending the dance prematurely. Whoa. Both Dick and I knew she was protecting her reputation as a chaperone and full-time faculty member by throwing dirt on ours. What a bitch, I thought.
It sort of ended there with Dick and I sticking to our guns and Judy B sticking to hers. After a couple days things were back to normal and we basically forgot about it.
But at the end of the SLU school year Bert McCarthy came to me and told me in confidence that my teaching assistantship was not going to be renewed. Professor Conoyer was incensed that Dick and I had been drunk at the Harris dance and had made fools of ourselves and the SLU program as was reported to him by his daughter. Conoyer ruled the roost like a feudal lord and there was not a single thing I could do about it. I was fucked. Period. My teaching assistantship was history.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Intoduction to SLU Grad School

Although my grades in general were not great, in my last two years they were definitely on the ascent, especially in geography and geology, which were my major and minor respectively. I mostly earned As with an occasional B. I had gotten to know all the profs and think they liked having me in class because I was the type of student who asked lots of questions, including some that occasionally were insightful.
Toward the end of senior year I inquired around about the possibility of going to grad school at SLU to get a Master’s degree and explored the possibility of applying for a teaching assistantship. To my surprise, the reaction was uniformly positive.
Based on my desires and the faculty encouragement, I applied for the assistantship and also wrote a long paper for my senior thesis about recent cutting edge discoveries in the newly established field of plate tectonics. Quite honestly it was the best research paper I had ever written. And I knew it. To make a long story short, I was awarded the grad assistantship and placed second in the contest for the best senior paper. A couple years later, over more than a few beers with Bert McCarthy, he told me that the faculty had voted 7-1 for my paper as the best in the senior class. But Professor Conoyer, the departmental chairman, had overruled them, saying that it wasn’t fair for me to get the assistantship and the $500 prize for best senior paper. The other faculty had strongly disagreed, arguing it was a matter of which paper was of the highest quality. But in the end Conoyer made a unilateral decision. He was, after all, chairman and his one vote counted for more than all seven others. As a result, the best paper award went to Joe F., one of Conoyer’s pets, a nice guy but a huge brown-noser.
On the afternoon of the late June day I was supposed to attend the award ceremony, which was for all students at SLU, both graduate and undergraduate, who had been awarded scholarships, assistantships, and other goodies, I went out celebrating with a bunch of friends and got rip-roaring wasted. By the time I got home at 4:00 I could hardly walk. So I fell into bed and slept for about two hours.
When Mom tried to wake me I simply turned over and went back to sleep. Finally, my fiancée, Sandy, came over and forced me to get up. A half hour later all four of us climbed into the car and headed for the Kiel Opera House, where the ceremony was to be held. I was still drunk and thoroughly miserable, with a head that was threatening to explode. Somehow I found my way to my assigned seat on the auditorium floor and tried not to look totally shit-faced, which was probably unsuccessful as the people around me certainly should have been able to smell the booze on my breath.
I dozed through the interminable proceedings and only awakened when the people in my row stood up and started filing toward the stage to receive our awards. I dutifully followed the guy in front of me, my drunk-eyes glued on his back. When University President Father Paul Reinhardt handed me my award he smiled and made some sort of friendly comment, which I managed to answer without stumbling and stammering or breathing raw alcohol fumes on him. After taking the plaque and shaking his hand I turned and started to walk across the stage but to my consternation no one was in front of me to follow. The guy who had been in front of me had made his way off the stage quickly and I was left standing there without a single clue as to how I was supposed to find my way back to my seat. Oh shit.
I tried to fake it by walking slowly straight ahead while frantically searching for a way off the stage. At that moment the young black woman who had been on my left in the seats came up and took my arm.
“What’s the matter,” she asked softly, leaning into me. “Did you start celebrating a little too early?” She was trying to keep from laughing.
“Something like that,” I whispered sheepishly and grinned like the bad little boy I was.
“Stick with me,” she said, smiling. “I’ll be your guide.” And arm in arm she escorted me back to our chairs. After the ceremony I gave her a big hug and thanked her once more. And never saw her again.
As you can imagine, the climate in the car on the drive home was frosty. Everyone was pissed off at me. Everyone except for the kind young black woman I still owe.