incredible life was presented so well by Kerry Temple and photographer
Dan Dry ("With a Grin and a Prayer," August/98). Marty is a genius
whom I first met when we were students at Swift Hall, and I would
like to underscore his powerful founding of the Park Ridge Center
for the Study of Health, Faith, and Ethics.
remain great but they are crucially important when life takes an
unexpected turn-as in my case when I was the victim of a severe
assault resulting in permanent brain injury. Thanks to God-and to
Marty, who still keeps in touch with someone rebuilding his life.
Lloyd W. Putnam,
writing on the wall
On the second
Web page of the article about Prof. Martin Marty, PhD'56, the accompanying
photograph shows an inscription on Marty's office wall, written
in an Asian language (Japanese?). Could you please tell me what
the inscription says?
Peter A. Pancione,MBA'90
hanging is in Chinese, and it translates as "Discovery is our business."
(An alternate translation is, "Creative effort is our goal.")-Ed.
First, a hearty
congratulations to the University for having an outdoor convocation
("Convocation al Fresco," August/98). It must have been wonderful.
I well remember mine, June '68: Bobby Kennedy was buried during
the ceremony; everyone had a transistor radio. I don't even remember
who spoke-no one was paying attention. The temperature was astronomical.
My proud father, in a nice new white shirt and tie, perspired so
much that the red dye from the Rockefeller cushions was absorbed,
leaving him with a permanently pink-stained shirt. I've often wondered
how many other people through the years at U of C convocation sacrificed
shirts or dresses for the cause of their children's graduation.
Second, a request
for those of us who haven't been around in many a moon. On page
11 ("Chicago Journal") of the same issue, you show what looks like
part of a nice map showing an astounding number (to me!) of buildings
not there when I was. How about printing a two-page spread of the
whole map so the old-timers can get a feel for it? Nearly the entire
block bounded by Greenwood, 55th, Ellis, and 56th was a parking
lot in the '60s. Court Theatre, where I spent many a warm evening
outdoors, was in front of Hutchinson Commons, and virtually nothing
existed west of the buildings on Ellis Avenue.
James J. Hogan,
with Internet access can see a campus map at http://www2.uchicago.edu/
UC/maps/. For a paper copy, contact the Magazine.-Ed.
I's have it
As a faithful
reader of the Magazine and a devoted follower of Jessica
Abel's Artbabe comic, I was surprised to see a rather egregious
error in the final panel of your survey of Hyde Park hangouts ("Chicagophile,"
August/98): It is, I am afraid, Cirals'-not Cyral's-House of Tiki.
That quibble aside, the page was (as always) a terrific reminder
of the sights and conversations of Hyde Park and the U of C.
me to this Tiki memory. A couple of friends and I, all of us between
our third and fourth years in the College, had gathered in Madison,
Wisconsin (who knows why), and, finding ourselves with nothing to
do on a Friday night (Madison), we headed to the East Side multiplex
to catch a Gene Hackman movie called The Package. Beginning
in Germany, the film's story ultimately made its way to Chicago,
where Hackman, playing the leader of an elite counter-terrorist
outfit, has arranged to meet his friend at a bar. The establishing
shot shows a darkened street, but one particularly gaudy neon light
stands out: Cirals' House of Tiki! My friends and I exchanged glances;
the same thought was all on our minds: Would they really show the
inside, or would it simply be a Hollywood soundstage? Cut to: "Tiki
Ted!" we all shouted-frightening the cheeseheads around us-as the
taciturn (he let his Hawaiian shirts do the talking), pipe-smoking
man behind the bar appeared before us, 15 feet tall and surrounded
by the Polynesian splendor to which no cinematographer could ever
When I return
to campus for my 10th reunion this June, I will certainly make the
easy stroll to Jimmy's, but when things on 55th Street wind down
for the night, it's nice to know, courtesy of Ms. Abel and the Magazine,
that it remains-as always-Tiki time.
is what the sign says. -Ed.
into the wind
If the Council
on Civil Society ("Investigations," August/98) had included a historian
among its 24 prominent scholars, politicians, and activists, it
would not have cited Baltimore Oriole Roberto Alomar's spitting
at an umpire as an example of what it fears is a growing incivility
The fact is,
that incident (which occurred in 1996, not last fall as reported),
was an aberration not only in Alomar's personal conduct but also
in the relations between ballplayers and umpires in general, which
are the most civil and serene in the game's history.
Had they known
anything about the good old "civil" days when tobacco juice was
sprayed, shins were kicked, and fists were swung as often as home
runs were hit, the council might have looked elsewhere for a more
accurate defining example of the decline of civility-say, for example,
at the demonstrators of the 1960s who thought it gloriously patriotic
to spit at cops from their moral high ground. Perhaps some members
of the council could have offered firsthand testimony.
Norman L. Macht,
correct in noting that Baltimore Orioles second baseman Roberto
Alomar was ejected during a September 27, 1996, game against the
Toronto Blue Jays, for spitting in umpire John Hirshbeck's face.-Ed.
Wide Web wars
As a former
student at the U of C in the '40s, I rubbed my eyes in astonishment
at the two-page article on adding a Web site for alternative weeklies
("Under Construction," August/98). Brian Hieggelke, AB'83, MBA'84,
is portrayed as a visionary who is adding to mankind in opening
a new Web site that will feature advertisements to the great uninformed
out there. My God! Look at the Internet. The last thing it needs
is more advertising. Have I been asleep? Aren't there any U of C
graduates out there who are working to improve the Internet? Why
not feature some of them?
view of rebellion
her letter (August/98), Ann Morrissett Davidon, X'47, argues that
the eminent historian Gertrude Himmelfarb, AM'44, PhD'50, is wrong
in ascribing the ills of our age to the rebels and turmoil of the
'60s. But not all the youth were rebelling, and Davidon is wrong
about the purpose of the Vietnam War. After the partition of Vietnam
in the mid-1950s, a million of the Vietnamese people "voted with
their feet" by leaving the communist North for the South, where
there was some attempt at representative government.
The U.S. attempt-in
which I played a small part-to resist the attacks of the North Vietnamese
finally failed, because of U.S. media distortions of that effort
and want of proper civilian management.
attacks the Reagan years of accelerated military spending. That
was an attempt to contain the Soviet buildup, and ultimately it
succeeded, with the Soviets giving up any effort to expand communism,
the fall of the Berlin Wall, the dissolution of the USSR, and the
Russians giving up their grip on the Eastern European countries
(the former Czechoslovakia, Hungary, etc.). The primary cause of
the rebellion and violence of the '60s was the TV- and media-augmented
decline of civility and their "cataclysmic images of violence."
says, the Pentagon budget has remained "inviolate"; actually, it
has declined steadily since the Gulf War.
I am writing
in response to "Acts of Faith" (June/98) by the Rev. Sam Portaro.
Although the article was a well-written portrait of the expression
of spiritual life on campus, I take issue with the fact that the
Orthodox Christian Church was not mentioned at all as having a presence
at the University.
purpose of the article was not to specifically detail the demographics
of religious life on campus, such information was included, and
the omission of our presence is distressing. Six years ago, our
diocese established and has maintained service to an Orthodox campus
fellowship at the University. The ministry to Orthodox Christian
students has been meeting bimonthly at Calvert House thanks to the
generosity of our friends at the Roman Catholic campus center. The
Rev. Nicholas Jonas has served as chaplain for the past four years.
Although not "full- time" on campus, Father Nicholas's thriving
ministry certainly merits mention where the "Lutheran, Baptists,
and Unitarians devote part-time clergy and lay leadership ...."
our presence should not have been difficult to ascertain, since
the diocese remits payment to the University to be listed among
the various campus organizations. Your magazine's neglect in this
regard is most disappointing, especially as the ancient yet living
spirituality of Eastern Christianity is a wellspring for many Christians
of other faith traditions, not to mention the high profile our church
carries in the city's ecumenical and inter-faith community.
Diocese of Chicago
Another U of
C pairing: In January 1975, I was in my first year of the U of C's
Medical Scientist Training Program. Essentially the first year of
med school, it included a variety of basic science courses.
was medical microbiology, organized by the redoubtable Alvin Markovitz,
professor of microbiology. The lecture portion was a blazing fast
tour through the world of pathogens, with the virology component
delivered by the always inspiring, always enigmatic Bernard Roizman,
chair of the Committee on Virology.
Mixed in among
us med students was an assortment of graduate students, the truly
experienced of whom earned the privilege of being teaching assistants
in the lab portion of the course. Leader of this pack was one Barbara
Ann Zehnbauer [SM'77, PhD'79]. For several weeks, Ms. Zehnbauer
presided over the medical students learning the arcane art of identifying
bacteria by trying to make them grow on culture media spiked with
various nutrients and indicators. Then, we were put to the test.
For our final examination, each of us was issued a vial of unknowns
and given a couple of weeks to sort out the mess.
On the appointed
day, we gave our reports. Since "Buchman" was close to the beginning
of the alphabet, I cheerfully reported my results-namely that I
had a pure culture of some obscure microbe-to Ms. Zehnbauer.
found my performance wanting, in that she had personally prepared
each vial, and took pains to assure me that I had indeed been issued
not one but three different bacteria. Moreover, she advised me that
the course required me to identify two of the three microbes correctly.
"Fail. Next student."
You may well
imagine my state of mind (Fail? Me?) as I stood there hearing the
next several students give the correct recitation. Then, oddly,
there was another failure. Several more sterling performances. Another
failure. A pattern was emerging. I inquired of Ms. Zehnbauer precisely
how she had prepared the test vials (she had mixed the cultures
together several hours before distribution) and also inquired about
the identity of the missing bacteria.
a short distance from the lab in Culver Hall to Regenstein), I tore
off to figure out what had happened to her grand design. A few references
clarified the problem-the bacterium I identified had produced a
toxin that killed off the other two bugs.
I chose to
communicate directly with Dr. Markovitz, the course director, by
letter. Using the common courtesy, poise, and control characteristic
of first-year medical students, I politely suggested that the teaching
assistant, Ms. Zehnbauer, was at best marginally competent. It is
possible I may have suggested that she be replaced, but the letter's
precise contents have (fortunately) been lost. At any rate, Dr.
Markovitz passed the (unsanitized) letter on to his star Ph.D. candidate,
namely Ms. Zehnbauer.
to Ms. Zehnbauer, I must relate that the versions of the story diverge
somewhat at this point. She recalls the letter as constructive,
to the point, and the basis for a new experimental protocol for
the next class. My recollection differs. I do believe that she was
somewhat distressed because I do not recall her speaking to me for
several weeks thereafter.
In the spring
our paths crossed once more-near the tomatoes at the Hyde Park Co-op.
Not knowing quite how to handle the unexpected meeting, I mumbled
something about having dinner together. Despite the fact that she
was clearly getting dinner organized for someone else, and despite
a long and somewhat unnerving glare, she accepted.
"okay," which was fortunate, because over the next few months, both
she and I began the research phase of our Ph.D.s: she working on
cloning a bacterial gene and me trying to unscramble aspects of
herpesvirus DNA. At the time, one could not simply purchase restriction
enzymes, those marvelous bacterial products that allow one to cut
and splice DNA. No, one had to grow the bacteria, lyse the cells,
and purify the enzymes, an exercise requiring a week or more spent
in a room specially maintained near freezing. This was not conducive
to preparing many different enzymes, so wise professors encouraged
their graduate students to swap the genetic reagents.
say, our research projects, although quite separate, became increasingly
interdependent on the other's ability to produce the needed reagents.
Put differently, the more time we spent in the cold room together,
the more time we could spend out of the cold room together.
In the fullness
of time, she completed her Ph.D. and I finished the MSTP. I was
scheduled to go off to a surgical residency at Hopkins and she to
a fellowship in Madison, Wisconsin. We parted good friends, a little
sad but looking forward to our lives, etc.
probably the silliest move we have ever made. By August, Dr. Zehnbauer
had been to visit in Baltimore, and we married as soon as my schedule
as a surgical resident would allow-18 months later.
our 17th wedding anniversary last March. A few months before, we
had brought our most successful experiment in recombinant genetics
to Hyde Park. Rachel, 11, had asked to see where Mom and Dad had
met. As we reminisced about "how it was," marveling at the changes
that had occurred around our old haunts, Rachel decided that the
Henry Moore sculpture "Nuclear Energy" was far more interesting
than "some old building." But she did indicate an unexpected desire
to return, if only for the pizza.
Buchman, SB'74, SM'74, PhD'78, MD'80
on the hoof
As I was reading
the letters in the August/98 issue, I was reminded that I had not
annotated how my spouse [Sophie Thoness Friedlander, AA'43] of 55
years and I met at the University. In 1941 I was a senior in chemistry
taking quantitative analysis. A very pretty young freshman, a friend
of my lab partner, regularly stopped by to see him. Fortunately
for me, I was in the lab more often than he. Within a few months,
we went on our first date-attending the livestock exposition at
the Chicago stockyards, a regular annual event during those prewar
years. While not very romantic, it was highly educational. By the
time of the Pearl Harbor attack, we were going to parties together.
Within eight months we were engaged, and before two years went by,
we were married.
I joined the
Manhattan Project at the University at about that time, and within
another year we both followed Enrico Fermi to Los Alamos and spent
the rest of World War II on the A-bomb project. After the war, I
returned to the University to complete my Ph.D. in chemistry and
to begin a family and a career in industrial chemistry. The youngest
[Ira Friedlander, AB'75] of our three children chose to return to
the University for his education.
Friedlander, SB'42, PhD'47
economics of happiness
You have asked
about how we met our spouses at the U of C. I would be proud to
recount our meeting. Close to Pearl Harbor Day, 1944, I walked into
a small restaurant on 57th Street. Two and one half years earlier,
I had suffered disabling wounds in the Coral Sea Battle. The Navy
retired me as a lieutenant. That year, I came back for my senior
year in economics, a member of the first GI Bill classes.
Arnold [Lindstrom, AB'46, MBA'61], who sang with me in chapel choir,
and Phyllis Riggio, whom I'd earlier helped in math-sat at a table.
Another freshman, Elaine Murdock, whom the others had introduced
in passing a week before, sat across from them. I sat down by Elaine,
in the only empty chair. Later, I found out they were waiting for
another economics student, George Hilton [AM'50, PhD'56]. I'd taken
out splendidly. Elaine [X'46] and I started dating and married two
months later. We still enjoy marriage, which is approaching 54 years,
and eight kids ranging from 52 to 39. When we had our fifth, the
U of C Industrial Relations Center, where I worked as a research
associate, took me off the productivity project, moving me to the
economics project. It did not help. We had three more, but failed
to reach cheaper by the dozen.
years, Elaine also worked for the University. Her most interesting
duty was as alumni secretary for the Law School.
Harrison, AB'49, MBA'50
One of the
consolations of having endured U of C winters is the belief that
Chicagoans speak plainly and engage thought; that to be one of them
was worth tribulations. The June/98 Magazine, however, left
me wishing I'd gone to UCLA. In "Citations," we learn that the Oakland
School Board caused controversy by requiring students "to acknowledge
the vernacular of their African-American students." Is this a parody
of "The Streets of Laredo"-"I see by your language that you have
a vernacular," or the other way around? Then there is the endless
concluding sentence, which has scholars comparing African-American
English "to other variations...because of their [whose, dammit?]
concurrent [when?] development and common syntactic features, challenging
linguists to look harder [than what?] at the role played by social
factors in its construction."
Is there a
national crisis of lazy linguists? What do social factors in construction
have to do with the Oakland controversy? By the way, are there languages
constructed without social factors? Is there some cutting-edge new
work, combining the insights of Noam Chomsky and Marcel Marceau?
bell ringers ring a bell?
T his is a
plea from the mother of a 1976 graduate. The Autumn/75 Magazine
contained an article about the Mitchell Tower bell ringers. Our
daughter was president of the group at the time, so I have treasured
this issue, which included her name and photo, for 23 years.
A few months
ago, I decided Lisa [Kunnath Muglia, AB'76, PhD'83] should have
custody of this treasure. As fate would have it, in the course of
the exchange the issue has been lost. I'm hoping-begging, really-that
an alumnus/a might have a copy he or she might spare. I have tried
used-book dealers from Massachusetts to California without success.
If you can help, please write me at 1338 Hillview Road, Homewood,
IL 60430, e-mail firstname.lastname@example.org or call collect 708/957-1856.
Mary Jane Kunnath
s'il vous plate
I am an antiques
dealer and own a set of 12 University of Chicago Spode plates, each
with a different picture of a campus building. They are dated 1942
or 1943, and I would like to sell them. They are in mint condition.
For a photo and more information, please call 703/237-5711 or e-mail
invites letters on its contents or on topics related to the University.
Letters must be signed and may be edited. Write: Editor, University
of Chicago Magazine, 1313 E. 60th St., Chicago, IL 60637. E-mail: