Letter from the Editor

Living with Injustice

You can hear it on any playground, even among children who can't read yet or add two plus two. Voices piping: "Not fair!" "My turn!" "You got more than I did." Call it a sense of fair play, a faith that life will give us what we deserve. Whatever you call it, it's really an innate sense of justice. At that age, of course, it rings with the innocent egotism of childhood. But as we grow into our roles as social creatures, as we develop our capacity for empathy, our sense of justice grows too. It becomes idealized, and it becomes important.

For some of us, it remains one of the most compulsive fascinations of our lives. For instance, if you want to capture my attention and hold it--really hold it--tell me a story about a likable character who's falsely accused, wrongly punished. My stomach will be in knots until I see justice done.

So here's a story for you--one that might have come right out of the pages of a best-seller.

On the strength of one convincing witness--and, at least arguably, the relative colors of their skin--a man is convicted of a terrible crime he didn't commit and sentenced to 27 years in prison. After a decade of confinement, he is paroled and sets out to prove his own innocence. In the end, he succeeds and begins the long process of reclaiming his dreams.

Good story, huh?

Now imagine that you read this story not in a legal thriller, but in the newspaper. Your reaction might be a little different. Without the omniscience of the author to help you out, you're back in the muddle of the real world. You may feel sympathy, maybe indignation, tempered by a bit of suspicion. In any event, you probably feel distant--it's hard to imagine that this could happen to you.

This, however, is the true story of Anthony Robinson '83. Not a character in a book with whom we can identify from the safe distance of our comfortable chair. Not some anonymous figure in the newspaper from whom we can insulate ourselves by a sense of difference. To put it plainly, this happened to one of Pomona's very own. That may sound elitist--but it's meant to be anything but.

The hard fact is that we accept a great deal of injustice in the name of justice. It's what the military calls collateral damage. Our excuse is ignorance--we know there are innocent souls among the damned; we just don't know which ones they are. We comfort ourselves that our justice system is "the worst in the world, except for all the rest." But don't we also take a more callous--and undoubtedly elitist--comfort in believing that such things couldn't happen to us or ours?

In a world of uncertainty, guilt and innocence can be hard to judge, even given the best of intentions. If you've ever sat on a jury, you know what I mean. At best, the only justice we can have in life is an approximation of justice--not Justice itself. That's because all we can really know in life is an approximation of truth--not Truth itself. The difference between the lowercase and the uppercase is, of course, the difference between the human and the divine.

So we live with approximations and uncertainty. And with injustice. Maybe we have to make our peace with that fact. But maybe we shouldn't get too comfortable with the casualty figures.

--Mark Wood

A Generation Remembers

On opening the copy of A Generation Remembers, that arrived unexpectedly in my mail from the Alumni Office, I was beguiled immediately into reading it through from beginning to end, caught up in the nostalgic recall of those WWII days at Pomona. It is a remarkable production and does great honor to the College as well as to those who conceived and developed it!

More than any standard history (even Tom Brokaw's) it projected for me the intimate, personal side of that war's varied effects. Though the Pomona stories may represent only a special, perhaps favored, social segment, they create a broad, kaleidoscopic picture of the emotions and struggles of those times.

I wasn't present at the Alumni Day 2000 when the idea was initiated, though I heard enthusiastic reports about it. When Rosemary Oelrich Choate, who I understand masterminded the project, asked me to participate in the oral history part of the record, I was catapulted back in time to the 25 years when my husband, Edward Sanders, was Dean of Admission and Dean of Students.

When he came to the College in 1942, just after Pearl Harbor, he needed to put together a class of virtually all women. Many of them had to be housed in the town (eight of them in our home among others) so that the men's dorms could be turned over to Army and Air Force training programs. Enrollments from year to year were schizoid, ending up with the return of veterans, many with wives and children.

I am grateful for the book and the recall it provides of the many memorable individuals we came to know in those College days. I am placing it in our library at Mt. San Antonio Gardens retirement community where a large number of Pomona alums and emeriti faculty of that generation are residents. I am sure they will be as intrigued by it as I have been.

--Jane Sanders
Claremont, California

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Faculty Reminiscences

This is in memory of Morton Beckner, who was one of my oldest friends and most valued colleagues during my 30 or so years at Pitzer.

A few years ago I read a book of interviews with some philosophers of science who helped bring about dramatic changes and improvements in their field during the 1970s and '80s. One of them said that when he got interested in evolutionary theory as an undergraduate, there was no philosophy to be found on the subject except for two excellent books, the earlier of which was Morton Beckner's Biological Way of Thought. That's a sign of how far ahead of the game Mort was.

Mort had a nearly unique ability to welcome people into areas of philosophy that would otherwise seem discouragingly out of the way and intimidating. I think that's partly because he had taught himself so much that he thought anyone could do anything he could do. But there was more to it than that. It required extraordinary intelligence and a mastery of the subject that enabled him to speak clearly about it. It required charisma, modesty and some weird kind of west Texas, redneck courtliness.

Mort had the gift of saying a few words about a philosophical problem that would unfold unexpectedly as you thought about them. Some of the work I'm proudest of was suggested by a couple of short remarks Mort made about skepticism in a class we taught together. On first hearing they seemed both wrong and uninteresting. But soon I found myself waking up in the middle of the night to think about them. This went on until I realized that Mort was right, and the standard literature on the subject was wrong. It had taken Mort less than a minute to tell me something it's still fruitful to think over 30 years later.

I should mention that Mort was politically courageous--far more so than the average academic. Around 1970, The Claremont Colleges admitted a group of brilliant, politically engaged students from the black ghettos of Watts, Compton and Oakland. Mort argued against old guard faculty and administrators who tended to think they were too rude and unskilled in the niceties of refined English to be in elite colleges. He was right to do so. Among the students he was defending were future judges, physicians, business executives, educators and musicians.

Finally, I should mention that Mort was a funster. Once, Mort told me of an exotic sexual practice (unfit for description in PCM) he said he'd read in an anthropology journal. This inspired me to waste a day writing a reply--based on what he'd told me--to something GEM Anscombe had written about pleasure. When I was done I called to ask Mort for a citation. "Isn't that a wonderful example?" he said. "You can learn so much from it. But you'd better not cite it in a paper. I made it up." If I hadn't learned so much from him, if his company hadn't been so enjoyable, and if he hadn't been such a wonderful friend, that would have been enough to make me mad.

--James Bogen '57
Center for Philosophy of Science, University of Pittsburgh

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Sadness, nostalgia and a feeling of great indebtedness accompanied my reading of the obituaries of two of Pomona's giants in history. With the addition of John Kemble, whose book on U.S. Naval history is on the shelves of the Monterey Historical Library where I volunteer, I cannot imagine a more accomplished trio to expound to Pomona students of any era. Those of us in the '40s and '50s were extremely fortunate. "Europe Since 1870" was forever a part of us as we freshmen labored to keep up with the keen mind of Henry Cord Meyer. John Gleason instilled a love and interest in British history for all. I was interested to note their contributions to Pomona long after I graduated, and I know their legacies will continue. They lived history and made it live for so many.

--Joan Poe Lowry '49
Carmel, California

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I note with great sadness the passing of two of the most inspiring and influential teachers I have ever had, both of them good friends, John Howes Gleason and Henry Cord Meyer.

In the fall of 1949 I started out at Pomona as a zoology major, but after taking Henry Meyer's Western Civilization course, I was totally hooked on history. His spellbinding enthusiasm, wit, and sheer flair in the classroom are unforgettable. In my own long university teaching career I know I have, consciously or unconsciously, sought to follow his example.

John Gleason was of a quieter, less dramatic nature, but his commitment to scholarship and sincere concern for his students made a deep and lasting impression which, too, has remained a lifelong source of inspiration to me. It was he who urged me to enter the historical profession, for which I shall always be grateful. We remained in contact to the end of his life.

With Henry Meyer and John Gleason the last of the Pomona History Department I knew are now gone; Jack Kemble and Vincent Learnihan, to whom I am also thankful, departed this life earlier. All honor to the memory of them, all four!

--H. Arnold Barton '53, Professor Emeritus
Carbondale, Illinois

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Frat Reaction

Amy Motlagh has been pointing out my mistakes since my freshman year, when she was the TA in my ID1 class. There are several ways to react when someone accuses you of error. I have found the hardest and most effective reaction is thoughtful appraisal and "fessing-up" to mistakes. In this case such a humble response would be easier if she had written with less bile.

Motlagh has valid points which deserve comment, but I do not intend to cede the field entirely. The story was not misinformed, as she wrote, only demi-informed. I left half the story out. There is not one opinion in the story from someone who thinks frats should be thrown out of the school. I tiptoed around the issue, trying to indicate objections without actually quoting anyone. I was tempted to pretend I could not find a single person to go on the record in protest of frats, but the truth is, in my laziness, I didn't even try. It was easier to go to the established powers than to seek out alternative voices.

I was also, more subconsciously, worried about making the story "right" for the magazine. Although no one gave me any sort of indication to do so, I felt the voice of an objector would make my job fitting the story to the magazine harder. I know now I was absolutely wrong. It would have been a much stronger and easier story if I had stopped tiptoeing and found a Motlagh to interview. There was no purpose to glossing over dissent. Our alumni are mature enough to accept the fact that Pomona hasn't quite been perfected.

Only half the story made it to the page, but I'm standing by that half. It was a damn good half story. I affirm commendation to Pomona for allowing discussion over the validity of frats to go on. Though tempted to add my two cents, this letter is just to address the challenge to the story itself.

--Nate Johnson '01
Burley, ID

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Pomona's Greatest Hits

The Winter 2001 PCM, with CD, is great. Thanks. However, I would like to know who the seven students on the striking cover are.

--Arthur Frank Johnson '47
Spotswood, New Jersey

 

Pictured, left to right, are: top row: Timothy H. Sachs, '02 and Drew Foerster, '04; middle row: Sarah Drewniak, '02, Jocelyn Robson, '03 and Elsbeth Escher, Scripps '02 ; and bottom row: Alison Ellsworth, '04 and Mark Wolfmeyer, '02. --MW

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What a magnificent and riveting picture on the PCM cover. Please let the photographer know I am in awe. Was Norman Rockwell an inspiration?

--Paula B. Reagan '58
Hamden, Connecticut

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A simple thanks doesn't really express my gratitude for the Pomona musical CD. Until I played the CD, I hadn't realized how much I really missed hearing Torchbearers.

I first heard this song sung by the PC Glee Club when I was 13 or 14 years old in the Webb School chapel. At the time I remember being intrigued and moved by the haunting music coupled with the strangely beautiful lyric mix, both soaring and ordinary. Only later in high school did I learn that one of my then teachers, Ramsay Harris, had a part in it.

So how is it possible that my own daughter, Christie Cooley '97, had passed through four years at Pomona never having heard that song? When I played it for her the other night she said she liked it but had never heard it before. It was hard for me to imagine that this truly remarkable song could fall by the wayside or that she could avoid hearing it over four years. Is it, as one of the articles suggests, that Torchbearers is really not performed that frequently anymore? Or was Christie sleepwalking?

By the way, which year's glee club was responsible for that particular recording?

He ne terra-toma.

--Jim Cooley, '63
San Jose, California

That version of Torchbearers was sung by the 1954 Glee Club, under the direction of Bill Russell. All participants in each of the ensembles included on the CD are listed on our Web site. --MW

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Congratulations on the music theme for the winter issue. Pomona has a truly rich history.

William G. "Doc" Blanchard started an enduring music career at Pomona in 1936. In 1966 he and I collaborated on creating The Songs We Sing at Pomona (Second Edition) to capture the developments since the first edition in 1943. We wanted the it to be a thorough Pomoniana music book, not just in sheet music but in extensive histories of the songs and numerous photos extending as far back as 1892.

In order to be as accurate as possible about the origins of "Hail! Pomona, Hail!", I tracked down a photograph of the blackface show for which it was originally written in 1909. Because I had departed for Columbia University in 1966, I was not around on campus in 1968 when the songbook was finally printed. Somehow that blackface photo was the only one that was omitted from the ones that I had designated, and the text of the narrative had mysteriously been altered to say "minstrel" instead of "blackface." This was an unsettling departure from the academic honesty that is the norm of Pomona pride.

As for the song Torchbearers and its evolution from a refrain of a song from a dance of Cahuilla tribe members at a Feast of San Luis Rey in 1890, it should be noted that it was not a "Native American" composition. The Cahuilla people and the hundreds of other distinct ethnic peoples of North and South America are not branches of "Native Americans" any more than Spaniards and Serbs are blood brothers under the term "European."

In a future issue of the magazine, it would be fun for all to see these fascinating photos and song histories. There really is something for everyone.

--Carl L. Olson '66
Woodland Hills, California

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While I greatly enjoyed the Winter 2001 issue, PCM's focus on music at Pomona, I was a little dismayed at the paucity of information about jazz music at Pomona. Particularly disappointing was the short description of Bobby Bradford given in the "linear notes" to the magazine's accompanying CD: that he "helped pioneer the cool sound of West Coast jazz." I would be very surprised if the person who wrote that note had consulted with Mr. Bradford, or had ever even spoken to him at all, much less taken a course in jazz history. If they had, they would know that Mr. Bradford is one of the most highly respected and well-known trumpeters in the avant-garde jazz scene, having worked with the likes of Ornette Coleman and John Carter (among many others), and that his music has little to nothing to do the West Coast "cool" sound. In addition to this slight, why was there no mention of Pomona alumnus David Murray? Mr. Murray is considered to be one of the most important tenor players of his generation and probably the most recorded jazz musician of all time, with over 70 major label recordings to his name. And Mr. Murray considers his time at Pomona to have been very important: "I met Bobby Bradford, John Carter, Stanley Crouch, Arthur Blythe, James Newton, Wilbur Morris, Butch Morris, Charles Tyler, David Baker, Walter Lowe during that time at Pomona and I was very much influenced by John Carter and Bobby." (interview, Eyeneer Records, Nov. 1995) These omissions are particularly conspicuous in a feature that otherwise succeeds in incorporating such disparate styles and artists as Balinese gamelan music, Pomona's glee clubs, Frank Zappa, John Cage, Kris Kristofferson and Lucy Shelton. While it may be incendiary and it pains me to mention it, I can't help but point out that these omissions are suggestive of a quiet racism at work.

As a jazz fan, and as one of the many Pomona students influenced by Mr. Bradford to pursue and seek out truly innovative and forward-thinking music over the banal and derivative, I feel you have done a disservice not only to the College community, but to music in general. If I may make a suggestion, it would be interesting if you could do a story on the jazz musicians who have had an association with Pomona, and maybe at the same time you could get Mr. Bradford's take on Ken Burns' PBS historical documentary, "Jazz." As a person who played a significant role in that history, Pomona should give Mr. Bradford (and jazz in general) the respect they are due.

--John Lynch '92
Chapel Hill, North Carolina

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We welcome letters about the College or magazine. Letters may be edited for length, style and clarity. When a letter raises significant questions, an appropriate respondent may be invited to reply. The editor reserves the right to cut off debate on an issue after a reasonable period of time.