In This Issue
Explore the November 1965 print edition below. Or to discover more writing from the pages of The Atlantic, browse the full archive.
Four worldly men, one with a simper, one a squint, one a button mouth, and the fourth with a strut, embodied much that fascinates about eighteenth-century England. In his latest ATLANTIC essay, Mr. Kronenberger, critic and author, recaptures those men and their time.
“ Young American radicals are in the historically unique position of not being able to demand a single piece of legislation from their government — their 'platform' is literally without one legislative plank.“ So says Irving Kristol, a founder of ENCOUNTER and now vice president of Basic Books, who here examines the contradictions of contemporary student radicalism and anticipates its disillusionment.
In preparing this supplement, the ATLANTIC invited student activists on several campuses to comment on the issues and temperament of student radicalism as they knew it. Some refused the invitation; many tried to express their feelings. The most compelling reply came from Mary Nichols Gonzales, a senior and a moving force in campus politics at Cornell University. Mrs. Gonzales is an honors student, a former editor of the TROJAN HORSE, Cornell's literary magazine, and co-author of STEP BY STEP, a book about civil rights work in Fayette County, Tennessee, where she spent the summer of 1964 helping to register Negro voters.
Never before in history has the American college professor had so many opportunities to enjoy power, celebrity, and direct participation in the affairs of the nation. The conflicting claims upon his time, and energies, hare inevitably warped his passion for leaching and reshaped the academic environment. The impact of these distractions is assessed by Irving Howe, author of POLITICS AND THE NOVEL, editor of DISSENT, and professor of English at Hunter College.
America’s giant state universities, dependent upon the good wishes of state legislatures and committed to curricular diversity, are peculiarly vulnerable to the pressures of intellectual narrowness and “superpatriotism Eric Solomon, who now teaches English at San Francisco State College, describes how such pressures affected his efforts, and those of his colleagues, to preserve academic freedom at Ohio State University.
An economist who taught at Yale, at Stanford, and at the University of Chicago before assuming the presidency of the University of Rochester, Allen Wallis has decided views about the evolution of the small liberal arts college. He expressed them one evening to the ATLANTIC editor, who is a member of his board, and followed up the discussion with this letter.
Jeremy Larner is the author of the novel DRIVE, HE SAID,and co-author of THE ADDICT IN THE STREET. He is currently teaching at the New York State University at Stony Brook, Long Island.
“The idea that universities select their faculties on some mindless principle of publish or perish is so ludicrously childish that it ought not to take in even a foolish undergraduate.” So says Arthur Mizener, biographer of F. Scott Fitzgerald and professor of English at Cornell University, who explores in detail the hiring and firing of university professors.
A graduate of Howard University, with a Ph.D. from the University of Rochester, Bernard Harleston is an associate professor of psychology at Tufts University. He is chairman of the faculty committee on Negro education, and last summer served as director of the Pre-College Center at Tufts, where eleven Negroes from Mississippi and twelve Negroes and sixteen white high school seniors from Massachusetts lived and studied together.
The frantic race for admission to college has its counterpart in the frantic race for admission to graduate school. And in both cases, says Columbia University philosophy professor Robert Wolff, the fulfillment of intellectual potential has been sacrificed to the narrow ends of competitive achievement.
Roughly half of this year's entering freshman class will become dropouts during the next four years. For some,it will be an intellectual and economic disaster. For others, like New Mexico's Tom Mayer, who left Harvard after two years,it will mean time for writing, self-education, and re-evaluation of the university experience. Mr. Mayer's first volume of short stories, BUBBLE GUM AND KIPLING, was published last fall.
Women should have the same opportunities and same sorts of education as men, and there is no good reason for separating the two, argues Julie Hayden, Radcliffe '61, sometime advertising woman and teacher, now on the staff of the NEW YORKER. The Group, she says, are willing and able to learn with the men.
“Goodwill is one of the obscuring forces in academic life,” says Howard Mumford Jones, distinguished critic and literary historian, and in the name of goodwill the American university has assumed such a variety of responsibilities and peripheral services that its energies and attention have been diverted from its proper function, the critical examination of ideas.
HANNAH LEES,author of many light articles, lives with her physician husband in Philadelphia.
JOHN H. SLATE is a New York lawyer and author who believes that the shotgun may not, in every case, be the answer to melancholy.
The American public has no common language for coping with military affairs, says the author of this provocative essay, and the lack increases the danger that we shall fail in our search for the ”moral equivalent“ to major war. Mr. Larrabee is an editor and writer, has published on military affairs in HARPER’S, AMERICAN HERITAGE, and BULLETIN OF THE ATOMIC SCIENTISTS. He was a combat intelligence officer in World War II.
Novelist and historian, and a friend of Dylan's, Constantine FitzGibbon was selected by the trustees of the Dylan Thomas estate to write his biography. In this second of two excerpts from THE LIFE OF DYLAN THOMAS,being published by Atlantic-Little, Brown, we see the young poet in his first venture in love, with the talented young writer Pamela Hansford Johnson.
The ATLANTIChas found a fresh, and original talent in Ralph Maloney, whose previous stories “Benny” and “Harry W. A. Davis, Jr.” have appeared in its pages over the past year or so. A native of Cambridge, Massachusetts, Mr. Maloney served in the Merchant Marine and in the Army and did a six-year stint on Madison Avenue before he quit to write.
W. E. B. DuBois was a spokesman for the Negro’s rights at a time when few were listening; he was highly intelligent, but toward the close of his career, he became embittered, a Communist, and finally left the United States and look refuge in Ghana. There shortly before his death, Ralph McGill sought him out for this talk.
The literary editor of the ATLANTIC, Phoebe-Lou Adams, went for a boat ride on the commercial canal that cuts straight across southern Sweden, and this is what happened to her. Miss Adams has just received the George Hedman Memorial Award for the best travel writing on any subject relating to the international field.
Jesse Hill Ford is a Tennessean in whom the ATLANTIC takes special pride. We published his first short stories, his first novel, MOUNTAINS OF GILEAD,and his first major work, THE LIBERATION OF LORD BYRON JONES,a novel of the South today which was the midsummer selection of the Book-of-the-Month Club.
“I’ll be the city’s first black mayor, and I’ll take office by 1970,” said City Councilman Irvine Turner, one of the many Negroes rising in political power as Newark gropes to solve civil rights problems in ways that avoid the destruction of Walts in Los Angeles or the smoldering tension of Chicago's South Side. John O'Shea, a news reporter for Newark's station WJRZ, tells here about a city in racial transition.
Having turned the phonetics of Professor Henry Higgins into the walloping success of MY FAIR LADY, Alan Jay Lerner now explores the world of extrasensory perception for his latest Broadway musical, ON A CLEAR DAY YOU CAN SEE FOREVER. In a conversation with ATLANTIC editor R. S. Stewart, Lerner talks about his notions of ESP, reincarnation, parapsychology, and, of course, the state of today's theater.