Swarthmore College Alumni Bulletin 1996-08-01

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The Masters Appalled

I

t was February 1982. Under cover of darkness, the artist snuck into a
Lang Music Building practice room, hung a towel over the window to
keep prying eyes out, and spent most of the night painting this mural
of four classical composers (left to right: Beethoven, J.S. Bach, Schubert,
and Handel). That artist, the same who created the antiwar mural in Trot­
ter Hall that appeared in the May Bulletin, is Ali Crolius ’84. Says Ali: “At
the time we were having our awareness raised about the nuclear threat. It
was sad to think that we were tampering with thousands of years of
human creativity and that their music would be destroyed along with
everything else.” She called the painting “The Masters Appalled.”
Ali’s Trotter mural is now gone—the victim of the building’s renova­
tion— but as long as there is a breath of life in Judy Lord, administrative
assistant in the Music Department, this one will remain for all time. Our
thanks to Beau Weston ’82, who let us know it was Ali’s work.

COLLEGE BULLETIN • AUGUST 1996

Editor: Jeffrey Lott
Assistant Editor: Nancy Lehman ’87
News Editor: Kate Downing
Class Notes Editor: Carol Brevart
Desktop Publishing: Audree Penner
Intern: David Plastino ’97
Designer: Bob Wood
Editor Emerita:
Maralyn Orbison Gillespie ’49
Associate Vice President
for External Affairs:
Barbara Haddad Ryan ’59
Cover: Illustration by Jane O’Conor.
Story on page 18.
Changes of Address:
Send address label along with new
address to: Alumni Records,
Swarthmore College, 500 College
Ave., Swarthmore PA 19081-1397.
Phone: (610) 328-8435. Or e-mail
alumni@swarthmore.edu.
Contacting Swarthmore College:
College Operator: (610) 328-8000
Admissions: (610) 328-8300
admissions@swarthmore.edu
Alumni Relations: (610) 328-8402
alumni@swarthmore.edu
Publications: (610) 328-8568
bulletin@swarthmore.edu
Registrar: (610) 328-8297
registrar@swarthmore.edu
On the World Wide Web:
http://www.swarthmore.edu/
©1996 Swarthmore College
Printed in U.S.A. on recycled paper
The Sw arthm ore C ollege Bulletin
(ISSN 0888-2126), o f w hich this is vol­
ume XCIII, num ber 6, is p u blish ed in
Septem ber, N ovem ber, January,
February, May, an d August by Swarth­
m ore C ollege, 500 C ollege Avenue,
Sw arthm ore PA 19081-1397. P eriodi­
cal postag e p a id a t Sw arthm ore PA
and addition al m ailing offices. Perm it
No. 0530-620. P ostm aster: Send
address chan ges to Sw arthm ore Col­
lege Bulletin, 500 C ollege Avenue,
Sw arthm ore PA 19081-1397.

8

Flight of Memory

Flying h is b ip la n e from C hester County, Pa., to A rizon a fo r the
reunion o f h is W orld W ar II flight c a d e t cla ss w as a som etim es
bum py rid e fo r Chris P ed ersen ’49. On top o f dusting o ff his 50y ear-old flight skills, h e m et a h o st o f ch aracters alon g the way.

By Christian Pedersen ’49

14 Pakrac Peace
E very h ou se still standing h a s bu llet h o les. L an d m in es lurk in
fields, w oods, an d ruins. This is P akrac, a sm a ll town in W estern
S lavon ia, n early d estroy ed by eth n ic civ il war. A young alum nus
is volunteering to h elp rebu ild th e w ar-tom city— brick by brick.

By Nathan Hegedus ’95

18 Busted Policy
The current “g et tou gh” a p p ro a ch to fighting drug a b u se in this
country isn ’t w orking, say p o litica l scien tist K en n eth S h arp e an d
form er student E va Bertram . We sh ou ld reco g n iz e the u se o f
dm gs a s a p u blic h ealth p ro b lem rath er than o n e o f crim e.

By Eva Bertram ’86 and Kenneth Sharpe

64 Memories of M ephisto’s
No o n e ex p ected M ep h isto’s to b ec o m e an institution w hen the
co ffeeh o u se o p en ed in the fa ll o f 1978. T he n am e h a s rem ain ed,
ev en though th e p erform ers w ho o n ce u sed th e m ain lounge o f
W illets dorm itory a s an ou tlet fo r th eir talen t a re lon g gon e.

By Ruth Goldberg ’81

2
4

26
30
35
58

Letters
Collection
Alumni Digest
Class Notes
Deaths
Recent Books by Alumni

I

t ’s no secret that the war on drugs has failed. Despite billions
of dollars spent on the effort to stop the drug trade, danger­
ous drugs are just as available and, in some cases, less
expensive than they were when the government began its
current anti-drug crusade in the early 1970s. Yet our political
leaders, trapped in a “get tough” mentality, largely ignore evi­
dence of failure as they continue to throw more troops, cops,
judges, and jailers into the drug war.
This issue’s cover story (“Busted Policy,” page 19) proposes a
new way of looking at the drug problem. The authors, Professor
of Political Science Kenneth Sharpe and political analyst Eva
Bertram ’86, draw their argument from their recent book, Drug
War P olitics: The P rice o f D enial, co-authored with Peter Andreas
’87 and Morris Blaehman of the University of South Carolina. In it
they propose that the United States abandon the unattainable
goal of stopping all drug use and adopt a more realistic policy of
_____________________________ addressing and ameliorating
the disastrous public health
consequences of drug abuse.
This is not an argument for
the
free-market legalization of
To effect change we
drugs. The authors recognize
need energy and commitment
that
drug use is more than an
but we also need ideas.
“individual” problem, that its
effect on families and communi­
ties calls for control of drugs, treatment of users, education of
the young, and punishment of crimes committed by drug
abusers— though not of most drug use itself. Their reasoning is
tempered with a humane approach untainted by the moralistic
attitude that has informed American drug policy for much of this
century.
Can a book by four academics (or an article in an alumni mag­
azine) change a policy that has such deep roots? Probably not—
at least not immediately. Yet ideas like those in “Busted Policy”
don’t exist in a vacuum. When Ken Sharpe came to me last win­
ter to propose this article, he asked about the circulation of the
Bulletin. I told him it’s only about 22,000 but asked him to consid­
er the quality rather than the quantity of our readers. Many
Swarthmoreans are leaders in those professions directly
engaged in the drug problem—politics, law, medicine, education,
and social work— and they have a habit of mind that doesn’t eas­
ily accept the conventional wisdom, that likes to ask the more
fundamental questions.
To effect change we need energy and commitment, but we
also need ideas. By asking the right questions, we can often
arrive at fresh answers to old problems. Academia is often criti­
cized for its disengagement from real-world problems, but at a
college like Swarthmore we see how easily the line between the­
ory and practice can be crossed.
—J.L.

PARLOR TALK
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L E T,T

"M y concern remains
a spiritual one.”
To the Editor:
The Bulletin left out a crucial do not
in my letter (“Battle of values is
‘bogus’—it’s all materialism under­
neath”) published in the May 1996
issue. My statement should have
read: “I prefer to be committed to
values that d o not have to do with
material success (even intellectual
success!) and power.” My concern
remains a spiritual one. I believe
that “old fashioned Marxist ideals of
economic justice” are easier to
achieve in a spiritually oriented cul­
ture.
In a similar vein, I was struck by
the point of view in the article
“Black Magic,” about Assistant Pro­
fessor Yvonne Chireau’s study of
African and African American spiri­
tual beliefs (May 1996). Her socio­
logical, psychological, and anthro­
pological approach presupposes
that there is no actuality in the
beliefs being studied. Spiritual cul­
ture can be seen as the focusing of
actual powers or energies; magic is
a very specific focus of these pow­
ers on a small area of human life,
analagous, say, to focusing sunlight
with a magnifying glass.
If African or African American
practices are seen from this view­
point, then instead of being seen as
the last resort of an oppressed peo­
ple, these practices can be seen as
insightful and powerful.
A nn E rickson ’65
Guerneville, Calif.

Adi
wei

Peter Gram Swing
and Dec. 7 ,1 9 4 1
To the Editor:
Notice of the death of Peter Gram
Swing took me back 55 years. On
Dec. 7, 1941,1was playing pingpong with a “gob” named Peter
Swing at the Sunday afternoon open
house of the Art Association in
Newport, R.I. In one gallery was a
juke box with the latest records for
dancing, another had the ping-pong
table, and the board of directors
room offered fruit punch and moun­
tains of cookies and cupcakes.
A group of Newport girls had
been invited to “entertain” the ser­
vicemen stationed at the Newport
Naval Training Station and at Fort

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the army base. And there
the
of
lot
the association: Only enlisted men
allowed, caps to be removed on
irentering, no dates entering or leav16
ing, no girls who were not invited
by the committee. Every Sunday
3
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was filled.
al
Peter Swing was a regular and
•n
was eagerly awaited. Not only was
I he the best ping-pong player any of
s of
us had ever encountered, he was
| also a delightful guest. On that
;ul- awful Sunday afternoon there were
two announcements. The first was
Dy
President Roosevelt’s speech on
the radio; the second was from milirotary police directing all service per[
sonnel to return at once to their
iribases. The only sounds in the Art
>Association were of boots moving
>
toward the doors and an occasional
I “Thank you.”
I never met Peter Swing again,
ilbut I was delighted to learn of his
of
appointment to the Swarthmore
: is
faculty. I wonder if he continued to
vplay ping-pong.
Adams,

were rules, strictly enforced by
Soldiers and Sailors Committee

D orothy P arrish M ow ery ’4 3

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Sarasota, Fla.
Designers of the masterpiece
To the Editor:
Your pictorial onthe glorious new
Kohlberg Hall contains no credit for
the architect. Who designed this
innovative masterpiece?

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Kohlberg H all w as designed by Mar­
garet Helland A rchitects o f New York
inpartnership with Ehrenkrantz &
Eckstut A rchitects; Coe L ee Robinson
Roesch, Inc., lan dscape designers;
j and artist Mary Miss. M argaret
I Helfand, the principal architect, is a
member o f the Class o f 1969.

Values a re c h a n g in g
because o f s c ie n tific tru th

To the Editor:
I enjoyed reading Christopher
Edley’s [73] excellent article in the
1 Feb. 1996 Sw arthm ore C ollege Buli fef/n on “Are American Values

^
IN

P lease turn to page 30
AUGUST 1 9 9 6

In April and May the weeks rushed
t’s not until the spring of your junior
year that you really become aware of by, and it took a progressively shorter
them —the Honors People. In your first time for a conversation with an Honors
year at Sw arthm ore, you ’re m ainly Person to really disturb me. Dan began
worried about that first exam period to develop a disconcerting twitch and
with grades, or about your living con­ laughed hysterically when discussing
ditions. (I told them anything but Wil- his upcom ing exam s. Each of th e
lets! W hat h ap p en ed ?) Y our new increasingly rare times I was allowed
friends are mostly other freshmen and to enter Elise’s room allowed me to see
how her ju ice-b ottle collection had
a few sophomores.
In your sophomore year you spend expanded. She was living on this stuff,
a good deal of time in the natural habi­ bought with her meal cred it at the
ta t of th e H onors P eo p le, M cC abe snack bar when dining-hall hours had
been ignored or forgotten.
Library, but perhaps you’re distracted
The few who actu ally had them ­
by the increasingly psychopathic ten­
dencies displayed by your best friend, selves and their studies in order were
whom you’ve chosen as a roommate even scarier. After discussing Jo sh ’s
instead of the well-adjusted guy the nearly-finished two-credit Honors the­
College picked for you in your first sis with him, I casually suggested that
year. Or—again—by your living condi­ he e-mail me a copy so that I could
tions. (There was that April morning skim through it in my spare time. He
when your one-room double in Mary chuckled maniacally and informed me
Lyon—a broom closet in more genteel that I might find it difficult to “skim”
through all 250 pages.
days—was invaded by a
As exam w eek ap­
family of badgers.) The
p ro a ch ed , my frien d s
Honors People are not
Was the agony downplayed th eir own
among your concerns.
plight by relating even
But last February, dur­
o f Honors
ghastlier things that they
ing a sem inar break in
had seen or heard
the spring of my junior
worth it?
about. Never mind that
year, I suddenly learned
“O f course!”
Chris was often found
that there was a real dif­
leaning against a library
fe re n ce b etw een th e
shelf muttering at book
lives of th ese students
and the life I had chosen for myself. I spines 2 inches from his nose. “You
was discussing various course options should have seen the guy who got up
for my senior year, affecting the non­ and did a soft shoe routine in the mid­
chalant air of som eon e who would dle of an exam,” I was assured. Did I
deny the need to declare a major until think they had a lot of books checked
out? W ell, th e re was som eon e else
a fter g rad u ation , w hen a hand
clu tch ed my arm. A sen io r Honors they knew who had 400 in her room.
Panicked conversations, contorted
major pulled me around to face her.
“Don’t go honors if you aren’t sure,” forms sprawled in places where no one
she said with an intensity rarely found was ever intended to sleep, normally
over the carrots and onion dip of the mild individuals berating themselves in
typical seminar break. “Don’t do it. It’s public, endless cigarettes loaned to
those unused to smoking and then—
a bad idea.”
It was over just like that. They all
I began to watch my Honors friends
m ore c lo se ly . W hen Spring B reak got Honors. Every one. And as I had
shared their stress during that difficult
arrived, I realized that few of them
went home to their families, and the time, so did I share in their pride and
relief when they hauled their duffel
ones who did took with them a 2:1
ratio of books to clothes. Those who bags full of books back to the library
stayed on campus didn’t really study, and shoved them into the return slot
but it was something that they con­ with fierce satisfaction. Had it been
stantly talked about. Grueling work worth it? “Of course!” they answered.
schedu les were outlined to me and Th ey had been te ste d to the lim it.
then ignored. Perhaps it was too early What else had they com e to Swarth­
more for?
to face what needed to be done.
—D avid Plastino ’97

I

3

SWARTHMORE

TODAY

COMMENCEMENT PHOTOGRAPHS BY STEVEN GOLDBLATT'8?

The value of good listening extolled as 333
members of the Class of 1996 graduate
eniors were handed roses while their guests were
handed ponchos, as 333 members of the Class of
1996 graduated in a steady rain in the Scott Outdoor
Auditorium on June 3.
In his commencement address, President Alfred H.
Bloom extolled the value of listening as the basis for intel­
lectual discourse and a key to overcoming barriers
between people and cultures.
“Good listeners extend themselves ... not only out of
respect for the speaker but because they believe in reach­
ing, and building upon, conceptual common ground,” he
said. “It should not be surprising that good listeners are
so highly prized in today’s world— particularly because
those who are able to grasp others’ perspectives across
divides of specialization, background, and culture, and to
think and argue for those others’ perspectives, are those
Who are able to envision and develop the common
ground upon which the achievement of consensus
depends.”
During ceremonies of the 124th Commencement, Presi­
dent Bloom awarded degrees to 333 seniors and four hon­
orary degrees: Penn Law Professor Lani Guinier received
the Doctor of Laws degree; Philadelphia community arts
activist Johnny Irizarry was awarded the Doctor of Laws
degree; infectious diseases researcher Bennett Lorber ’64
received the Doctor of Science degree; and computer
graphics pioneer Andries van Dam ’60 received the Doc­
tor of Science degree.
In related Commencement activities, the late Michael
Durkan, librarian emeritus (see obituary on page 6), deliv­
ered the Baccalaureate address. Richard Schuldenfrei,
professor of philosophy, spoke at Last Collection. Follow­
ing are excerpts from honorary degree recipients’ charges
to the seniors.

S

4

Lani Guinier, a cham pion o f equ al opportunities for minori­
ties an d women, has been a m em ber o f the faculty o f the
University o f Pennsylvania Law S ch ool sin ce 1988.
“I will leave you with the sentiment of someone who
helped me three years ago today when it wasn’t raining in
fact, but it was raining in my soul. The person who
helped me was Attorney General Janet Reno, and she told
me three years ago today, as I was commiserating about
my ‘dis-appointment,’ she said, ‘Lani, if you stand on prin­
ciple, you cannot lose, because even if you lose, you still
have your principles.’ So I accept this honorary degree in
the name of those principles and out of respect for those
of you who are being enormously good listeners.”
Johnny Irizarry, a sculptor an d painter, is director o f Taller
Puertorriqueño, a Puerto Rican community arts cen ter and
gallery in North P hiladelphia.
“I hope that going to college did for you what it most
importantly did for me. It made me realize how much
there was still left
to learn. Gaining
access to my histor­
ical and cultural
awareness and to
my understanding
of the Puerto Rican
place in this world,
is something that
was not taught to
Guests sw addled in
rain gear watch hon­
orary degree recipi­
ents Lani Guinier (top
right, with Professor
Richard Valelly) and
Johnny Irizarry (left).

S W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E BULLETIN

me in school or recognized. I have realized that beyond
the traditional sources where one finds and obtains
knowledge— such as family, books, and school—knowl­
edge is available all around us on a daily basis. It comes
from unexpected sources, such as a person you meet on
the street or a prisoner you work with. The important
thing is to learn to recognize it and seize it when it is
offered to you. I believe that when we all become stu­
dents and teachers of each other amazing things are
accomplished. Knowledge becomes a powerful tool for
yourself and for others and for those things you believe
in. In our struggle to make sense of our common reality, I
think knowledge and education are at the core of finding
our answers and solutions, but true knowledge will not
be found until all voices are lifted from silence. We must
establish equal recognition of all voices historically in
order to understand our present and have the necessary
tools to form our future.”
Bennett Lorber ’64, the Durant P rofessor o f Medi­
cine and P rofessor o f M icrobiology and Im m unolo­
gy at the Tem ple University S chool o f M edicine, is
a leading expert in epidem iology and its im plica­
tions for public health.
“Ironically, in searching for something to share
with you today, it was something I heard in med­
ical school that came to me. Sometime during the
first couple of weeks of my first year, one of our
professors quoted an 18th-century philosopher
who said, ‘Physicians sit in the front of the the­
ater of life.’ It’s true. Doctors are uniquely posi­
tioned to observe the full range of human experi­
ence. Unfortunately my experience has been that
although physicians sit in the front row of the
theater of life, most of them never see the curtain
go up.
“You sit in the theater of life. I urge you to
watch the curtain go up and see the play. Better
than that, get out of your seats, get up on the stage, and
be a participant in the play. Write your own plays. The
richness of the theater of life is everywhere around you. If
you will just keep your senses alert and your minds and
hearts open, you will experience great things.”
Andries van Dam ’60, the Thom as J. Watson Jr. University
Professor o f Technology an d Education at Brown University,
is a p io n eer in com puter graphics and hypertext.
“Among the virtues that I learned here were the values
of persistence and of passion. Swarthmore, as you know,
is a very intimidating, intense place, and like many of you
I was always full of self-doubt. I felt in the shadow of bet­
ter, more agile minds, and I wasn’t at all sure that I’d
eventually be able to make it. But I came to learn how
much dedication and persistent hard work, which are
under one’s direct control, can compensate for the lack of
innate brilliance, which isn’t.
“Persistence also means following your own well-con­
sidered convictions despite pressures to do otherwise.
As to passion, I mean the passion of being a lifelong stu­
dent, not merely of matters intellectual or artistic but
also of world affairs. I mean caring passionately about
people, being passionate about nature.”

AUGUST 1 9 9 6

A bove: Honorary degree
recipient Bennett Lorber ’64
with President Alfred H.
Bloom (and a friend).
Left: Andries van Dam ’60.
Below : Jerusha Klemperer,
who was elected senior
class speaker.

Senior Class Speaker Jerusha Klemperer m ajored in
religion, with a concentration in w om en ’s studies.
“As the Swarthmore students that we are, we are con­
stantly thinking, deconstructing, taking apart our world
and examining it. It is this that is at the heart of our
Swarthmore experience. Here we have learned to dissect
our world, to examine its component parts, to see the raw
mechanisms that make our culture go and make ourselves
go. However, rather than distance ourselves from these
processes, we continue to engage in them. Our Swarth­
more education has given us the tools to look underneath
what we do.”

5

COLLECTION
New dean, Robin Mamlet, takes helm o f Admissions Office

R

obin G. Mamlet, former dean of admissions at
The Lawrenceville (N.J.) School, joined the
staff in June as the College’s new dean of admis­
sions. She replaces Carl Wartenburg who died
unexpectedly last August.
Mamlet is a 1982 graduate of Occidental Col­
lege, where she spent two years as an admissions
counselor and assistant admissions director
before becoming associate director of admissions
at Pomona College. She served as dean of admis­
sions and financial aid at Sarah Lawrence College
from 1987 to 1993, when she was appointed dean
at Lawrenceville.

Relating Publicly... Swarthmore and

New adm issions dean
Robin Mamlet

College Librarian Michael Durkan dies suddenly

M

DENG-JENG LEE

ü

ichael J. Durkan, longtime College librarian
and a scholar of Irish poetry and literature,
died of a heart attack at his home June 10. He was
70 and had planned to retire at the end of the year.
“For 20 years Michael’s love of language, of liter­
ature, and of learning enriched the College’s edu­
cational mission,” said President Alfred H. Bloom.
“The warmth and generosity of spirit with which
he offered these intellectual and artistic gifts will
permanently strengthen our ties of colleagueship
and community.”
Durkan served as head librarian since 1976 and
M ichael Durkan
transformed McCabe Library into a center of cul­
tural activity that frequently exhibited the works of
prominent political cartoonists, bookmakers, and artists. He also sponsored
readings by contemporary writers and poets, including 1995 Nobel Prize­
winner Seamus Heaney. Durkan’s recently completed annotated bibliogra­
phy of Heaney’s works is awaiting publication.
A member of numerous professional societies, Durkan also taught cours­
es in Irish politics and literature at Swarthmore.

Naval hero and Emeritus Professor Jam es A. Field Jr. dies
ames A. Field Jr., the Isaac H. Clothier Professor
Emeritus of History and International Relations,
died June 24. He was 80 years old and died of com­
plications following a stroke.
Field joined the faculty in 1947 and was promot­
ed to full professor in 1958. He served two terms
as department chairman (1963-68 and 1979-80),
retiring in 1986.
Widely published in the fields of American naval
history and international relations, Field served
four years in the Navy during World War II. He won
the Bronze Star for heroism, helping in the evacua­
tion of a small aircraft carrier that was damaged
by a kamikaze attack in the Battle of Leyte Gulf.

J

Field taught at Swarth­
m ore for nearly 40 years.

6

67 other leading American libéral
arts colleges have joined in a public
relations initiative to increase their
national name recognition and promote the benefits of a liberal arts
education. A major part of the campaign is the World Wide Web site
titled “Welcome to Your Liberal Arts
Future” (http://liberalarts. org).
Prospective students can find a list
of answers to basic questions about
a liberal arts education as well as
links to Swarthmore and each of the
other collaborating colleges.

International Service ... A new non-

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profit organization, the International 1
Service Community (ISC), has been
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formed by Raymond Hopkins, the
Richter Professor of Political Science, and Lloyd Lewis ’49, a member
of the Board of Managers, to
,
improve economic development in
developing countries by encouraging 1
early-retired citizens to provide volunteer service. Teachers, health
practitioners, business executives,
craftsmen, lawyers, and others are
encouraged to live overseas for a
few weeks to a few months. A trip in
early January 1997 is planned to Sri
Lanka; another in March to Belize/
Costa Rica. For further information
write to ISC, P.O. Box 380, Swarthmore PA 19081-0380, or access ISC’s
Web site at http://www.swarthmore.
edu/SocSci/rhopkin 1/ISC/isc.html.

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Oh those ’00s ... Here comes the

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Class of 2000: 416 new students, 219
women, and 197 men. They come
from public schools (242), private
schools (122), special selective publie schools (15), parochial schools
(9), and the rest from overseas.
There are 209 in the top tenth of
their class with 65 valedictorians or
salutatorians (156 students are from
schools that do not provide rank in
class). The most anticipated majors?
Engineering, biology, English, political science, history, and economics.

S W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E BULLETIN

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event, winning the 400-meter dash in a conference record
time of 58.40, participating on the conference record 4x400
team, and winning the 200-meter dash in 26.20 seconds, to
earn Outstanding Female Athlete of the Meet honors.
he baseball team, under first year head coach Brad
The men’s track team was also successful, finishing
Hofmann ’93, posted a 17-13-1 record, their first
with a final overall record of 9-1 and 4-1 versus conference
winning season since the 1985 squad made the
teams, improving from a seventh place finish at the 1995
NCAA Tournament. This senior-dominated team featured
Centennial Finals to a second place finish at this year’s
six players to hit over .300 and combined for a team bat­
contest. The balanced attack was led by Brian Baird ’99
ting average of .316. But it was junior outfielder Pat Straub
who finished in first place, setting a conference record in
who led the squad in nine offensive categories while earn­
the pole vault with a leap of 13’9”. Baird also finished in
ing All-Centennial Conference First Team honors. Posting a
fourth place in the long jump and took fifth place finishes
,427 batting average, Straub finished third in the confer­
in the high jump and 100-meter dash. Eric Pakurar ’97 won
ence in batting and second in hits, collecting 50, and fin­
in the 400-meter hurdles in a time of 55.19 seconds and
ished first with 44 runs scored. Bob Mascia ’96 and Frank
took a third place finish in the triple
Santora ’96 received Honorable Mention
jump and a second place finish as a
All-Centennial Conference recognition,
member of the 4x400 relay team. In a
while Craig Rodner ’96 and Matt Wiggins
last-chance race at Princeton, Scott
’96 were named to the Centennial Con­
Reents ’96 qualified for the Division III
ference Academic Honor Roll.
Championships in the 1,500-meter run,
The men’s tennis team capped its sea­
finishing eighth to earn All-American
son by advancing to the semifinals of the
honors.
NCAA Division III Men’s Tennis East
For the first time in school history, the
Regional. Swarthmore, ranked third in
women’s lacrosse team put together
the East and 11th in the nation in Divi­
three consecutive seasons of 11 wins or
sion III, played one of the toughest sched­
more after finishing the 1996 campaign
ules in the country. It was a streaky sea­
with a mark of 11-6. The young Garnet
son, where the Garnet lost seven games
squad entered the season ranked 12th
in a row. With a 4-3 victory over MIT the
in the preseason coaches poll and was
losing streak gave way to five wins that
primed to move up the rankings with a
included victories over four regionally
fast 4-0 start, but four consecutive loss­
ranked teams. For the season John
es ended all playoff dreams. The Garnet
Derderian ’97 posted the best singles of
won seven of their final nine contests by
12-2, while the doubles team of Greg
outscoring opponents by 58 goals.
Emkey ’99 and Derderian notched a 10-3
Senior attack Lara Ewens led the squad
record.
in scoring with 56 goals and 20 assists
With only two returning starters from
for 76 points, while junior Lia Ernst
Scott Reents ’96 (center) earned Allthe 1995 championship women’s tennis
added 45 goals and 8 assists.
American honors in the 1,500-meter run
team, the 1996 season will go down as a
The men’s lacrosse team finished the
at the Division III Championships.
rebuilding year. The Garnet finished the
season with a 3-10 overall record and a 0season with a 2-13 overall record and a 26 mark in the Centennial Conference.
8 Centennial mark. Freshman Neena
Offensively the Garnet were led by captain Ben Seigel ’96,
Shenai came to the forefront for the Garnet, post
who collected 15 goals and 27 assists for 42 points. Mid­
ing an 8-2 singles mark in Centennial Conference play and a
fielder Andy Place ’96 added a team and career-high 22
9-4 overall mark. Shenai was the only player to post a win­
goals and collected five assists for a total of 27 points,
ning mark for the Garnet this season. Junior captain
while Will Craig ’96 added 19 goals and three assists for 22
Michelle Martinez moved up from number four singles last
points. Seigel was named to the All-Centennial Conference
year to number one singles this season and finished with a
second team.
5-11 overall mark.
Despite a 2-26 overall record and 1-15 conference mark,
The women’s track and field team posted a perfect
there were several individual highlights in the softball sea­
dual meet season going 12-0 overall and 7-0 versus Centen­
son. Sophomore third baseman Michelle Walsh led the
nial Conference foes. The women’s season was highlighted
squad with a .380 overall batting average and a .400 Cen­
by a victory at the Penn Relays, the first for a women’s
tennial Conference average and finished in the Conference
team in school history. The 4x400 relay team of Danielle
top 10 in both categories. Walsh also led the team with 30
Duffy ’98, Catherine Laine ’98, Betsy Davis ’96, and Jill
hits, three triples, two home runs, 10 RBIs and a .570 slug­
Wildonger ’97 finished the Mid-Atlantic Conference race in
ging percentage. She was named to the All-Centennial Con­
a school-record time of 4:03.63, a mark they eclipsed later
ference First Team.
in the season. While the team struggled to a fourth place
Hood Trophy—With a sweep in baseball and victories
finish at the Centennial Conference Championships, sever­
in women’s track, men’s tennis, and a softball split, the
al individuals excelled. In the triple jump Laine was victori­
score was tied at eight points each. In the final contest,
ous with a leap of 34’4” and set a conference record on the
women’s lacrosse at Haverford, the Garnet crushed the
4x400 relay team along with Duffy, Davis, and Wildonger to
Fords 17-5 to give Swat a 9-8 Hood Trophy victory.
garner all-Conference honors. Duffy starred in the two-day

Baseball posts first winning record since ’85
as track teams have outstanding years

T

AUGUST 1 9 9 6

7

.

Chris Pedersen '49
ran off with an old love
COURTESY CHRIS PEDERSEN '49

this spring. Her name
was Babycakes, and he
hadn't seen her in
more than 50 years.
B y Christian P ed ersen ’49

C

hris P edersen ’49 never forgot his first
aviation sw eetheart, th e Stearm an trainer
in w hich he learned to fly in 1943. T h ese
sturdy, easy-to-fly biplanes w ere th e pri­

m ary trainers for thousands of m ilitary pilots during

World War II, and no one who has ever flown one
forgets the experience.
Pedersen (inset, in 1943) went on to fly B-24
bom bers over Italy in the last year of th e war, then
cam e hom e to an engineering m ajor at Sw arthm ore,
a long and happy m arriage, four children, and a su c­
cessful career in manufacturing. Upon his retire­
m ent last year, one of his children posed an alm ostrhetorical question: “Dad, what would you really like
to do?” The answer, w hich his family suddenly had
to take seriously, was to get a Stearm an (m ore than
2,000 are still flying), learn to fly it all over again, and
take it a cross th e country. And there was this
reunion of his flight cad et class in Tu scon th at h e ’d
been thinking about attending....
T h e search for a plane led him to airp orts up and
down the East Coast, but ironically it was a neigh­
b or in C hester County, Pa., who had a Stearm an at
the C hester County Airport— and was looking for a
partner to help maintain and fly it. T h e 1941 PT-27,
fitted out in Navy colors, was alm ost identical to th e
aircraft that Pedersen had first soloed in at Thunderbird Field, Ariz., in 1943. With a cruising speed of
only 80 miles per hour and a range of about 200
miles, it would b e a two-week flight to Arizona and
back, but th e m aps w ere already laid out on th e din­
ing room table.
So in May, m ore than 50 years after first learning
to fly, P edersen got b ack in a Stearm an— his own
this tim e, not Uncle Sam ’s— and flew it acro ss the
United States. He nam ed th e plane “B ab ycakes,” and
this is th e sto ry of their trip.

— Je ffr e y L ott

Christian Pedersen flew
this Stearman biplane to
Tuscon, Ariz., in May,
attending a reunion o f his
World War II flight cadet
class before flying back to
his hom e in Chester
County, Pa. Pedersen
first learned to fly in a
Stearman, which has two
open cockpits, a wooden
propeller, fabric-covered
wings and fuselage, and a
7 radial engine. Average
speed: about 70 mph.

May 12

May 13

Had a sort of a tearful farewell with
Sue. She blessed me and Babycakes
with holy water supplied by our
daughter Hannah, an Episcopal priest.
Started off at about 2,500 feet, heading
south, and got very cold. Reached Sal­
isbury about 9:15. Made a good land­
ing there. The flight base operator
(FBO) put me in front of an electric
heater because I was so cold.
Left for Roanoke Rapids about
10:20. Ground speed slowed to about
70 mph as we turned to Norfolk and
made the crossing over Chesapeake
Bay. That was a little nervewracking—
lots of side lifts from the gusts. It was
hard to fly and work with the section­
al maps at the sam e time. In fact the
map began to tear and I couldn’t get it
folded right to see beyond Norfolk, so
I wasn’t sure where I was. Fortunately
the GPS [Global Positioning System, a
satellite navigation aid] was right on.
Made a good landing.
Paul and Andy were the FBOs at
Roanoke Rapids. Very friendly. They
gave me their courtesy car, a big black
Cadillac, a real bomb. Ate at the Red
Lobster. Complained about the food
and they gave me the meal for free.
How about that.

Got off at 8:00 a.m. It was a low ceiling,
chilly, stayed at about 3,000 feet. I did
much better on the check points and
landed on the grass at Union Airport
in South Carolina.
Left Union at 12:22, and landed at
Rome, Ga., at 2:35. Bad landing— ran
off the side of the paved runway onto
the grass. It was a tough flying day.
Low ceilings, misty, only 3 -4 miles vis­
ibility, especially in the hilly areas,
where I got up to 4,500 feet.
At Rome I met Dotty Stringer and
John Murphy. She’s a retired school
teacher working on her pilot’s license,
and he’s a retired Air Force colonel.
Flew in Korea and Vietnam— jets, lots
of stories. Tells how although he is
color-blind he got through the eye test
by having a friend get him the cards
ahead of time. He memorized the dots
on the bottom and passed with 100
percent. But after a thousand hours,
and com bat in Korea, they had anoth­
er exam and he flunked it. But they
said, “Well I guess you’re already fly­
ing com bat so it doesn’t really mat­
ter.” Then at 7,000 hours they caught
him again. His wingman had crashlanded on the field, and they sent up a
green flare, but he interpreted it as
red. He and Dotty live together, and

10

they’re building a seaplane. He wants
her to get her license so h e can fly the
plane. So there you are.

May 14
Get to the airport very early and talk
to Bob Cordle, a pilot who uses DUAT,
an informational computer system. He
gets a weather report, says it looks
okay, with thunderstorms possible, so
I decide to go. I take off, but about
three miles west at 1,500 feet it looks
bad, very foggy, so I decide to turn
around.
After I land, Bob and I start talking
about wheel landings and how impor­
tant they are, especially in the Stear­
man. [This style of landing, under
throttle instead of the usual stall land­
ing, is particularly useful in crosswinds.] He’s sort of a shoot-first, askquestions-later kind of guy, and says
he’ll coach me. So I get back in Babycakes and follow his advice from the
ground. I make three tries and finally
make a good wheel landing.
That evening I went to one of those
multiple movie houses and bought a
ticket for B ird C age, with Robin
Williams. The lights darken and I
notice that no one else has come into
the movie. I’m the only one in the
audience, and it’s a weird experience.
S W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E BULLETIN

Way 15
Finally get out of Rome, and it’s very
hazy. About 40 miles out, I cannot pick
up Meridian, Miss., on the GPS. I get
lost and start circling what looks like a
crop duster strip with a barn and two
houses. I figure they must know where
they are, and if I can land, I can ask
them where I am.
Went in and got stopped okay,
although it was a pretty bumpy land­
ing. Turns out it was a cotton field, not
an airstrip. There was nobody around
but a large dog, fortunately friendly,
but he couldn’t help me. So I get back
in the plane and use two different GPS
bearings to figure out where I am—
just north of the line I wanted.
At Jackson I pick up the main road,
Route 20. Crossed the Mississippi
River to Vicksburg Regional and land­
ed there. (Vicksburg Regional is actu­
ally in Louisiana.) I m eet Tom, the
manager, and Tommy, the helper.
Tommy was to give me a ride to a
hotel, but h e’s very historically mind­
ed and gives me a tour of Vicksburg.
He tells me about “you all” coming
down the river and trying to get
around the bend but “we” had you
covered with the guns and so forth.

May 16
Added two quarts of oil and took off
about 8:30 heading sort of towards
Tyler, Texas. The gusts were now
18-20 knots, and very difficult flying,
but my wheel landing was really good.
At Tyler a guy from the Sheraton
picks me up. Larry, a very distin­
guished black man, tells me that he
will take care of me and I will take care
of him. We get into general philosophi­
cal discussion. He tells me he had
prostate cancer two years ago and
he’s now recovered, and a doctor and
his wife took care of him and helped
with the bill. He tells me, “Now don’t
you pay for the ride back to the air­
port; I have that all fixed.” So naturally
Larry gets a heavy tip.

May 18

startup. He starts to tinker with it, and
I start to call Stearman guys to find
out if they have any advice. He spills
oil all over the floor and he’s walking
around in it with his cowboy boots
and a lit cigarette dangling from his
lips. I finally get him to toss the
cigarette because he’s very close to
the gas valves, trying to prime the
thing. Finally I get a hold of a mechan­
ic in Pennsylvania, who says to take
out the oil relief valve. That seem s to
solve the problem, but by now it’s
2:00 in the morning.

I leave Big Spring in lots of wind. Over
Carlsbad, N.M., nobody answers the
radio, so I look at the windsock. It indi­
cates I should be landing on runway
26, but 26 is all torn up, with barrels
across it. I try 21, but the gusts push
me off, so I go back around and ask
permission to land on 26. Again no
answer, so I decide to go for it. There
are barrels in the way and trucks
along the side, but I get the plane over
the barrels and down on the runway,
running across the new fill. Fortunate­
ly we don’t hit anything. Two guys
com e out and remove the barrels so I
can get to the hangar, where I meet
Ron, who looks like the original Marl­
boro man.
I ask Ron if he knows how to help
me change the oil. He says okay but
adds, “I never worked on a big round
engine before.” I knew we were in
trouble. Sure enough, after we change
the oil I don’t get any oil pressure on

Leave Carlsbad about 9:30, following
route 62 to get around the Guadalupe
Mountains. Very desolate country,
and lots of headwind. I’m going
around the tallest peak doing only 29
mph ground speed, starting to get
worried about gas. The speed finally
picks up to 45 mph, and I figure I can
make El Paso okay. As I’m coming
down the line on the final approach,
the tower asks me to speed it up
because a jet is behind me. I say “Hey
I’m doing my best, but this plane will
only do 70 or 80 mph on the
approach.” And he says, “Good luck.”
Made a good landing and left again
about 1:50. Terrible wind. I’m getting
beat up so much I try to land at Deming, N.M. Terrible try— ran off to the
side, so I give it power and left rudder,
hit som e tumbleweed, and come
around again.

power up, and com e in on 21 su ccess­
fully. I used 31 gallons in 2 hours 35
minutes in that wind. [The Stearman’s
tank only holds 46 gallons.]
I go on to Big Spring and land there
at 1:45. The guy at the FBO says that a
big ole boy with a cowboy hat and a
big smile cam e in one day and said he
had an invention to suck prairie dogs
out of their holes and sell them as
pets. Also says the growth industries
in Big Spring are bingo and prisons.

May 19

Pedersen crossed 1 8 s ta te s during
his 21-day, 5 ,500-m ile journey.
O Roanoke Rapids, N.C.
0 Rome, Ga.
0 Vicksburg, Miss.
0 Tyler, Texas
0 Big Spring, Texas
© Carlsbad, N.M.
0 Deming, N.M.

© Tuscon, Ariz.

0

Sweetwater, Texas
0 Ponca City, Okla.
0 St. Louis, Mo.
0 Indianapolis, Ind.
0 Springfield, Ohio
0 Columbus, Ohio
0 Butler, Pa.
© Chester County, Pa.

May 17

AUGUST 1 9 9 6

MAP BY AUDREE PENNER

I get off from Tyler before 8:00, head­
ing for Big Spring, Texas. It’s a tough
wind and I’m averaging only 60-70
mph across the ground. I pick an
intermediate point at Stephensville,
Texas, where they tell me to land on
runway 1 4 .1 made a pass at it, but it’s
like a bucking bronco with the wind at
18-22 knots. So I abort the landing,
11

May 20
I get off Deming about 7:30 a.m. head­
ing for Ryan Field in Tuscon. I file a
flight plan this time, so som ebody will
check on my flight, but I point out that
I might land along the way. At Wilcox
the gauge shows between a half and a
quarter tank. Worried about fuel, I
make a nice landing with very little
wind. A young woman helps me pump
gas. She’s the only one there.
I follow Route 10 through the flatland, with plateaus and som e huge
mountains along the sides. Sort of like
going through a valley, but there’s no
vegetation. Very ominous looking.
Then the buffeting starts and I have to
fight to keep upright. I call flight ser­
vice to tell them I stopped and am
continuing my flight plan. I have to
increase the rpm to about 1,900 to
maintain altitude. Then cut it back as
we hit an updraft. Once I pulled the
mixture control by mistake and killed
the engine— heart attack time. But
Babycakes finally kicks in.
Came into Ryan and called the
flight service to close the flight plan.
They are very upset with me. They
say I am an hour overdue, but I
remind them I called them on the air.
After supper I sit at the bar and
start to have som e beers. There’s a
woman sitting next to me, and she

tells me her escapades. One time
sh e’s on vacation by herself in Wash­
ington State and runs out of money, so
she gets the back copies of the local
newspaper and goes through the car
ads. And wherever there’s an OBO (or
best offer) she calls. She finds a car
that a woman would take maybe
$1,000 for. So she goes down to see it,
then tells the lady that sh e’s got to
have her mechanic look at it. Leaves
her own car there, and goes around to
the used car dealer and shops it. Gets
the guy to offer her $1,500 for it, which
she gets in cash. Then she goes back
to the lady’s house, gives her the
$1,000, then takes the dealer the
signed title and pockets the $500. Pret­
ty slick deal. The dealer is mad as hell
about this, but that’s too bad. So there
you go.
For the next week I’m at the
reunion with Sue, who made the trip
to Tuscon in hours instead of days.
Great fun.

O

nce I pulled
the mixture
control by mistake
and killed
the engine—
heart attack time.
But Babycakes
finally kicked in.
feet, then 6,500. The plane is almost
out of control as the ground speed
goes over 100 mph. Takes lots of rud­
der and stick to mollify the wind jabs.
I land a little after noon at Deming.
They fill us up, but the wind is too
tough to keep going. Made two excel­
lent wheel landings that day, though.

May 28
May 27
Time to start back home. I take off a
little after 9:00. It’s cold at 5,500 feet,
and very windy— a tailwind now,
going east. Ground speed goes up to
80 mph, lots of buffeting and I decide
to land at Wilcox, N.M., again. Get gas,
take off for Deming. Climb to 6,000

I take off aiming for Sweetwater,
Texas, about 480 miles. I started off
smooth at 5,500 feet on the way to Las
Cruces, then made the turn to El Paso
and the bumps started. Climbed to
7,500 to get around the mountains and
went on over El Paso to land at a little
airport called Faybens. Made a nice
landing there, got fuel, and headed for
Pecos. Tried 5,500, then 7,500, fighting
the stick the whole time. I hit 114 mph
with a tailwind, then flew on into
Pecos. Big airport, but only one per­
son at the FBO, a girl who’s filling in
and knows nothing about airplanes.
Anyway, she gives me a free Coke and
we gas up.
Then on to Sweetwater, which I
learn is noted for its Rattlesnake
Roundup in March. They round up
about six tons of rattlesnakes and sell
the venom to the Japanese. Then they
make belts, etc. I guess it’s a fund-rais­
ing thing for the local Jaycees.

May 29

Pedersen flies “B abycakes” from the rear seat, where student pilots sat during military
training. “The instructor could sp eak to the student through a megaphone-and-tube
arrangement, ” says Pedersen, “but we couldn’t talk back!” Bulletin photographer Steven
Goldblatt ’67, just visible in this picture, had the benefit o f a two-way intercom.

| Today’s destination is Ponca City,
q Okla. Along the way I decide to stop at
§ an airport in Frederick, Okla. When I
> get there, I find it’s an Air Force train“ ing field, with jet fighters flying in and
out, but I think what the hell, I can
deal with that. I get in the pattern with
these guys, and of course they’re
much faster, but they sort of move
S W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E BULLETIN

12

Even on a sunny day,
it can get cold in the
open cockpit at
P edersen’s average
altitude o f3,500 feet.
A down ja ck et and
gloves helped, but
som etim es Pedersen
flew low er just to keep
warm. Not too low,
however, because “you
have to watch out for
radio and TV towers. ”
aside. You have to call into “hacker
control” to get into this airport—very
appropriate. Finally get some gas, take
off for Ponca City, and make good
crosswind landing there.

May 30
Off fairly early with the aim to get to
Creve Coeur, a small field right out­
side of St. Louis. I stop at Pawhuska,
and then Independence, Kan., then
head for Fine Memorial, an airport
that’s got three runways. That gives
me an option on wind. But when I get
there all the runways are X-ed out,
which means you can’t land there.
Fortunately I’m able to get approach
control and say, “Look, I’m running
out of gas here, and I need some
help.” They vector me into a small air­
port called Grand Glaze, Mo., which is
up near the lake country. Then I fly
from Grand Glaze on to Creve Coeur,
which has a wonderful grass strip.

May 31
On the way to Indianapolis I landed at
an airport called Sky King. Made a
very poor landing. There was a slight
crosswind, but the runway was short
and I had to use brakes. The people at
the FBO were more interested in their
computer than in getting me gas. They
were not too pleasant.
I headed for Mt. Comfort (that’s
Indianapolis), and approach vectored
AUGUST 1 9 9 6

me in to runway 16 with the wind at
130°. Poor landing. Tended to drift
when the tailwheel came down. When
they put the plane in a hangar, I
noticed there was a little break in the
cowling around the oil filler plug, but I
think it’s going to be okay.

June 1
When I left Mt. Comfort, the visibility
was poor— only three to four miles. I
flew at 3,000 feet, and it was so calm
that Babycakes flew herself, with just
a little help from the right rudder.
Dayton approach picked me up and
sent me straight across Dayton at
2,000 feet, and the city was just a
beautiful sight. I aimed for a small air­
port called Mad River, which is in
Tremont City, Ohio, near Springfield.
They have a beautiful grass strip
there, and I made a nice landing.

June 2
Bad weather. I went to the airport at
Mad Fliver to check on the plane.
Wrapped the engine with a cover. No
flying today.

June 3
The weather reports aren’t good, but I
thought I’d give it a try, so I took off
about noon. I got 10 miles east of Dayton, and approach control said I was
facing two- and three-level thunder­
storms. I tried to go north around

them and decided that wasn’t going to
work. Back to Mad River.

June 4
I decide to take off and see if I can get
to Columbus. I land at Ohio State Uni­
versity airport, but the weather
doesn’t look good, so I just stay the
night and then hope to leave the next
day for Butler, Pa., where my son Pete
[Pedersen 7 2 ] has been waiting for
three days for my arrival.

June 5
I finally get to Butler and meet Pete,
staying overnight. He’s the one who
asked me the the question about what
I really wanted to do in retirement,
which of course I’m doing now. Pete’s
a pilot, too, and wanted to do part of
this trip with me, but couldn’t get
away from work. Too bad.

June 6
Left about 8:30 for Altoona, Pa. Good
landing there, gas up, and it’s on to
Chester County Airport to close the
circle. Arriving about 11:30, from the
air I see a bunch of people waiting
there for me and Babycakes. I make a
terrible approach and bounce around
and abort the landing. Next time, I
com e around and land on the grass.
Many friends are there, and Sue. Cam­
eras and champagne in the hangar.
Great. So there you are. ■

Pakrac Peace
The war in Croatia is over, but a young volunteer
finds that the absence o f arm ies
d oesn ’t m ean that peace has truly arrived.
By Nathan Hegedus ’95
he mood is one of constant static coming
cease-fire line, it was christened “Little Berlin.”
out of a broken radio. A white noise of
Over 75 percent of Pakrac was destroyed in the
stress, hatred, and depression that pro­
1991 fighting, and other buildings were burned dur­
vides background to life. Destruction is
ing the cease-fire. Today, after brief spurts of morn­
everywhere: houses without roofs and
ing activity, the town is empty by early afternoon.
cars overturned on the side of a street. Stick close
to it might be the best-policed town in the
Still,
the road, muddy and potholed, as land mines lurk in
world—cops in groups of three walk down the
fields, woods, and ruins. Every house has bullet
streets, one always with a beret, others with regular
holes sweeping across its plaster, testimony to real
hats, all with big guns.
person-to-person gun battles. Out in the villages,
The eerieness never dissipates. A jog down Pozemany houses have no bullet holes. Instead they are
ga Road is never “normal.” Following the cease-fire
burnt-out shells. During the three-year standoff, sol­
line, this road was known as the Road of Death.
diers blew everything up with grenades and gaso­
Mines and snipers took a constant toll on drivers
line. It is early November, the middle of a cold
who braved it as a shortcut to nearby Pozega. The
snap— my first day in Pakrac.
snipers are a memory now, but the road still reeks of
About 70 miles east of the Croatian capital,
death. Not a sign of life—not anywhere. A simple
Zagreb, and 50 miles north of the Bosnian border, in
line of houses, all without roofs, stretches to the
a region known as Western Slavonia, Pakrac is a for­
horizon, a room inside one of them painted blue. To
mer Habsburg outpost, once the center of a quiet
see that room exposed to the world is an invasion of
yet comfortable region of rolling hills known for
a life. The forest reaches up the adjacent hills, hiding!
thermal baths, beautiful churches, Lippizaner stal­
more villages. The few rebuilt Croatian houses fly ]
lions, and superb rakija, a Balkan liqueur. Before the
the Croatian flag—a proud gesture, yet a sign of the ;
disintegration of Yugoslavia, it was also one of the
hopelessness of true reconciliation.
more ethnically mixed areas of Croatia, claiming a
Both churches in Pakrac—Roman Catholic for 1
population of 28,000, about half Serb, half Croat,
Croatians and Orthodox for Serbs—were gutted durj
with a few Yugoslavs, Hungarians, Czechs, and Ital­
ing the fighting. Inside the Orthodox sanctuary,
ians. In the countryside Serbs and Croats tended to
some stained glass remains in the windows, hinting!
live in separate villages. In Pakrac they lived as nextat the former beauty of the place, yet the windows I
door neighbors, friends, even spouses.
highlight blackened chandeliers hanging from the I
This sleepy corner of Croatia dominated the
ceiling over a floor strewn with twisted metal and
world’s headlines in June 1991, when civil war broke
broken stone. What am I doing in this place?
out between the Croatian Republic, which had
recently declared its independence from Yugoslavia,
n July 19951joined the Brethren Volunteer Ser- I
and the Serb-dominated Yugoslav army. And when
vice, expecting to work overseas for two years. I
an uneasy cease-fire was negotiated in 1992 between
After a few weeks’ training in Chicago, I thought II
the Croatian government and the occupiers of Ser­
would be sent to Israel, but instead spent three
bian-held territory known as Serbian Krajina, four
months working at the Franciscan Shelter in Chica-1
U.N.-protected zones were established. Pakrac fell
go, feeding and caring for the homeless. I came to
within the only zone that encompassed both CroatCroatia in November for a three-week work camp,
and Serb-held territory. Split down the middle by a
then signed on as a long-term volunteer.

T

I

14

S W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E BULLETIN

After the surprisingly easy Croatian victory in
Operation Flash in May, 1995, the United Nations
withdrew all its military units from Western Slavo­
nia, leaving only humanitarian agencies as an inter­
national presence.
Between 1992 and 1995, volunteers from more
than 20 countries, including Americans like myself,
have participated in Volunteer Project Pakrac, a
series of three-week-long work camps set up by
Croatian organizers. Our project, for which I have
served as recruitment coordinator, English teacher,
work camp co-leader, and newsletter editor, seeks to
aid reconstruction and reconciliation in the wartorn town.
The fate of Pakrac is solely in Croatian hands,
much to the discomfort of the remaining Serbs.
Denied entrance to the Croatian Republic by the
government, Serbian refugees from Bosnia and East­
ern Slavonia cannot apply for citizenship, as this
can only be done from inside the country. Only the
few Serbs who stayed behind have the dubious priv­
ilege of running the gauntlet of bureaucratic and
police harassment that accompanied registration.
All over the former Serbian Krajina, they suffer the
indignities of unemployment, taunting, and denial of
basic utility services.
And while life in Pakrac was not much affected
by the arrival of the NATO troops last winter in near­
by Bosnia, the NATO mission could have a serious

long-term impact. Many Serbs who escaped the
onslaught of the Croatian army by fleeing to Bosnia
were conscripted into the Bosnia Serb army. Mean­
while Croatian refugees have moved into the Serbs’
homes, setting the stage for more conflict. The Croa­
tian Army will shrink if peace holds, and jobless ex­
soldiers will swell the already large ranks of men,
often traumatized by war, who fill the 30 bars in this
district of 4,000 people. Some observers worry
about the volatile combination of these hardened
Croatian soldiers with potential Serb returnees. A
Serb was murdered in town just after the New Year.
Even so, life in Pakrac has stabilized. The weekly
market on Thursdays offers cheap food, large
crowds, and all the cheap ripoffs of Western mer­
chandise one could hope for in a formerly socialistic
country. Construction companies are making for­
tunes as the pounding of hammers has replaced the
crack of gunfire. One street was closed during
December so three entrepreneurs could hawk
Christmas gifts, hot dogs, and rakija from booths.
New businesses are springing up beside the bars,
which, profiting from the trauma of war in a drinking
culture, remain the dominant economic factor.

W

ork Camp #35 first met at a Zagreb youth
hostel on a Friday night in early November.
The recruitment director had planned for
six volunteers but five others somehow ended up in
the camp. The group consisted of
two Germans—a cook and a
kindergarten teacher; two English­
men—a farmer and a student who
had spent the summer picking
grapes in France; two Irish women
fresh off months of factory work in
Holland; two Americans just out of
college; a Belgian tour guide; a
Dutch student; and a very unique
Australian man who would almost
go insane in the next six weeks.
Our ages ranged from 22 to 45.
After a day-long orientation from
two long-term volunteers, we
began our journey into another
world, transferring in Banova Jaruga to a smaller train. Someone told
me it was because standard-length
trains presented too great a target
for Serb snipers and artillery, but I
later learned that this was a
myth—one of many in the war
This eighteenth zone. The work campers were usu­
was destroyed in the fighting. Hegedus took this picture on Christmas Day, 1995.
ally given a tour of town on their
first day, but due to the vicious

AUGUST 1 9 9 6

15

cold, ours spent the afternoon
huddled in the frigid work camp
house.
The house can seem like a hip­
pie commune. The kitchen had no
water and the bathroom only limit­
ed hot water. In space usually
accommodating between six and
12, 15 people slept in two rooms,
sharing the bathroom, living room,
everything else from teacups to
towels—including rampant cold
viruses. Only the living room had a
heater, so we broke the monotony
by going to a bar, sipping tea for
hours in red vinyl booths.
Then there was Sasha. “Kako
ti?” is Serbo-Croatian for “How are
you?” It is the familiar form of the
greeting and one used all day by
Sasha, the 13-year-old mentally
handicapped boy who hangs out
at the house. He was always happy
to see us. Sasha is not washed
much at home and one work
camper sprayed him with Lysol
one stinky day. Sasha loved it and
was still imitating him months
later. He looks about 7, yet has the
mannerisms of an old man. The
way he gets ready to leave, firmly
setting his little hat on his head, is
particularly endearing. With his
constant, quizzical smile, Sasha is
at the heart of the project.
Beyond the house and Sasha’s
magic spell, the physical damage
in Pakrac seems almost normal. But it isn’t. The eye
might not consciously see the destruction, but the
mind does. The subconscious knows, and can feel
the hatred, see the sadness in the eyes of the war
victims. Work camp days are long. I learn to stack
bricks one day by watching a Croatian woman work.
She stacks bricks in a distinctive pattern that takes a
while for me to pick up, and after taking a break, she
corrects my mistakes for an entire hour. But then
stacking bricks becomes my skill, something no one
else in the camp can do. Now I don’t have to just
stand in a line passing bricks. I can evaluate each
one, place them, and build something next to the
ruins. My brick towers will stand all winter and will
only be demolished to build something greater.
With the two Irish women, Rosin and Maura, I vis­
ited a local woman a couple of times a week. Her

I

A form er m ental hospital stands (top) pockm arked and gutted
outside o f Pakrac. Says Hegedus: “Maybe the patients got away
and started running all o f these countries. ” The communal house
where the short-term volunteers live was “fixed up” for them, but
still had little h eat and no water in the kitchen.

name is Ljuba, and she lives in a high rise right on
the former cease-fire line. There was no electricity in
her building, so we drank tea in scalding metal cups
by candlelight. As her cat curled up in my lap, she
talked about the U.N. troops who were her only visi­
tors for years. She had counted on snipers to spare
her because she wasn’t important enough to kill.
We helped demolish the house of a local bar
owner, who is half Albanian and half Bosnian, so he
could rebuild. We ate well on that job, and he
seemed strangely good-natured during the final
destruction of his home, as we took it down brick by
brick.

S W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E B U LLETIN

he volunteers seem to drink more in Pakrac
than they normally would. Maybe it’s that a
place like this only attracts those with a strong
capacity to lose themselves. We were warned that
the stress could lead to heavy drinking, and the cul­
ture encourages it. Much of the rakija consumed
during the work camp was courtesy of residents of
Sumetlica, a nearby village where we helped reno­
vate the damaged community center. The mayor
offered us rakija at 9:00 a.m. He was insistent. So we
drank.
Our work in Sumetlica involved lots of scraping
paint off walls and ceilings. The men of the village
made us little inventions like paint brushes ham­
mered to long sticks of wood. Then they stood
around and watched us work. None of us could ever
figure out what the men did all day, except to bring
more rakija. They seemed to enjoy watching us
drink and get drunk. The damp, bone-chilling cold
was only alleviated by warming next to the fire that
heated one of the village stills. It was a wonderful
communal event. And lunch was consistently deli­
cious, after we let the dust settle and ate chicken
and potatoes or thick bean soup—hearty, warming
meals.
The long-term volunteers have a thousand sto­
ries about innocents who come to Pakrac never hav­
ing touched a drop of alcohol. Three weeks later the
train to Zagreb carries away experienced drinkers of
wine, rakija, and beer. Not everyone deals with
Pakrac by drinking, though. Many can handle the
shock or find healthier outlets for their feelings. Oth­
ers are just too sick from the constant communal
colds.

T

ife in Pakrac is hard. The language barrier, the
sometimes rough living conditions, the lack of
visible improvement, and the often depressingly militant mood of the town all put great stress
on us. On the other hand, like some veterans of war,
volunteers often have a hard time returning to the
comfort and safety of Western Europe or America.
After the trials of surviving in a war zone, it is every­
day life back home that seems distant from reality.
Once a potential Croatian volunteer named Sasha
came to Pakrac to check out the project. He ended
up sleeping 20 hours on his last day in town. He was
cheerful when awake and even compulsively
cleaned the kitchen until it shone—not an easy task
in any communal house. But mostly he lay on his
bed, day and night. Martina, the project coordinator,
said he was in shock. He had not been in the war
and had not seen the damage. Imagine seeing your
own country in ruins.

Martina asked me if I was shocked by Pakrac.
Surely foreigners can’t be as shocked as innocent
Croatians. To us the “Balkans” denotes a faraway
place familiarly associated with images of war, so I
came here prepared for a tough time, but not per­
sonally connected. Yet once here 1had to concen­
trate so hard on getting through the day and keep­
ing warm that I focused solely on the group and on
myself. I was sick for a long time. Why did it take me
so long to recover? Why do people sleep round the
clock? For the same reason that they drink so con­
stantly? Even so, several volunteers in the work
camp expressed gratitude that their eyes have been
opened to this level of suffering in the world.
The project’s long term goals are shifting as it
searches for more local Croatian involvement in an
effort to ensure its survival. A women’s group has
already become independent and even spun off a
laundry run by its members. Eventually the volun­
teers will all go home, but we can leave’a legacy in
Pakrac in the community organizations built by the
project and lessons learned from them. We have
brought training, experience, and an outside per­
spective that this region sorely needs. Ultimately,
though, the Croatians themselves will have to pro­
vide the momentum for reconciliation. Then maybe
one day the harsh static in the heart of Pakrac will
cease, and the music of a united Slavonia will ring
out. ■

L

AUGUST 1 9 9 6

Nathan Hegedus ’95 m ajored in history and political science. He
expects to continue his service in the form er Yugoslavia for
another y ear before attending graduate school in journalism.

17

By Eva Bertram ’8 6 and Kenneth Sharpe

An alternative to the failed War on Drugs
his April, federal agents in­
volved in Operation Zorro II
made a hugely successful drug
bust. They netted more than
six tons of cocaine and half a ton
marijuana— drugs with a wholesale
value of more than $100 million— and
charged 136 people involved in a Mex­
ican-run trafficking network linked to
Colombian distributors. For some,
these dramatic seizures were proof
that America’s “war on drugs” was
working. But federal agents who
worked on the case questioned its
effect on price and availability. “I
doubt whether even the huge amount
of cocaine that was seized in this case
... would be much of a blip on the line
as far. as availability,” said Charles
Riley, chief of the FBI’s organized
crime/drug operations section.
At a time when U.S. spending on
federal drug control efforts is at an alltime high, the public record is pep­
pered with similar frank admissions
by drug enforcem ent officials. There is
a curious irony here: Time and again,
U.S. officials acknowledge that drug
enforcem ent campaigns will have little
or no effect on the nation’s drug prob­
lem— yet this recognition triggers an
escalation rather than réévaluation of
these campaigns.
For decades the central aim of
American drug policy has been to
eliminate all use of drugs such as
cocaine, heroin, and marijuana by
making the cost or risk of use pro­
hibitively high. Using the threat of
punishment backed by force, the drug
war aims to make it more dangerous
and costly for growers, refiners, smug­
glers, and dealers to produce and sell
drugs— thus driving down production
and availability, driving up prices, and
discouraging consum ers from buying
and using drugs. A secondary strategy
has been to raise the risk of use by
threatening users with jail or other
sanctions (such as loss of jobs, public
assistance, or licenses). Relatively lit­
tle attention is given to treatm ent and
prevention.

T

18

BUSTED

of

This approach to drug control is
not new. Most Americans trace the
current drug war to former President
Ronald Reagan and First Lady Nancy
Reagan’s “Just Say No” campaigns of
the early 1980s. But in fact America’s
war on»drugs was launched in the
1920s, when Treasury Department
agents charged with enforcing the
1914 Harrison Act took control of the
drug supply out of the hands of doc­
tors and pharmacists and began the
effort to prohibit any sales or use. For
decades this policy punished smug­
glers, dealers, and users as the
enforcement effort gradually grew.
A m ajor expansion of the drug
war— and the first presidential “decla­
ration of war”— came during the
Nixon administration in 1970. The
next significant expansion cam e under
presidents Reagan and Bush in the
1980s. Since 1981, the U.S. has invest-

nstead of tilting at
windmills in the
struggle to chase
down and eliminate
the global drug trade,
we should approach
drugs as a public
health problem,
seeking to heal
rather than punish
drug abusers.

I

ed more than $65 billion in drug law
enforcement, and today the annual
budget for drug enforcement alone is
more than $8 billion.
But the results of this high-cost
drug-control campaign are dismal.
Despite seemingly impressive statis­
tics on the rising numbers of acres of
drug crops eradicated, tons of cocaine
seized, and traffickers or dealers
jailed, levels of supply are as high as
ever. Coca production in Latin Ameri­
ca has remained relatively stable.
There is no evidence of a decline in
the amount of drugs crossing U.S. bor­
ders. And perhaps most important,
the prices for a gram of both pure
heroin and cocaine (as measured in
1994 dollars) have declined markedly
in the last 15 years— all in the face of
dramatic escalations in drug law
enforcement spending.
Nor has the drug war reduced drug
abuse and addiction. This failure is
sometimes obscured by the fact that
the number of so-called current
users— people who have taken drugs
within the past month— declined
between 1985 and 1993 from 22.3 mil­
lion to 11.7 million. According to
White House reports, however, this
drop is explained largely by a decline
in casual marijuana use— a decline
that began in 1979, well before the
drug wars of the 1980s were under­
way. Meanwhile the more serious
problems of abuse and addiction
involving cocaine and heroin (often
compounded by alcohol) are as bad
as or worse than ever. According to
the 1995 National Drug Control Strate­
gy, the number of heroin addicts has
remained at about 600,000 for the last
S W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E BULLETIN

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two decades, and there are indica­
tions that it may be growing again.
Further, cocaine (and its derivative,
“crack”), which raised few-concerns in
the late 1970s, claimed at least 2.1 mil­
lion hardcore addicts by 1993. Even
the intensive drug war assaults of the
mid- to late-1980s failed to reduce lev­
els of cocaine or heroin abuse.
According to the government’s own
study, cocaine-related hospital emer­
gencies increased by 22 percent
between 1988 and 1993, while heroinrelated emergencies rose 65 percent.

The Drug War Paradigm
Why do we continue to pursue the
same strategy of tough enforcement—
of chasing the drug supply and pun­
ishing drug users— in the face of such
overwhelming evidence that the strat­
egy is failing?
It’s tempting to search for a simple
explanation. Some blame presidential
drug warriors such as Richard Nixon
and Ronald Reagan for starting the
spiral of increasing drug enforcement
to further their law-and-order political
agendas. But this does not explain
why more m oderate presidents, such
as Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, and Bill
Clinton, have also perpetuated and
even escalated the war on drugs. Oth­
AUGUST 1 9 9 6

ers point to partisan politics on Capi­
tol Hill— and blame tough-on-crime
Republicans for using the drug issue
to drub the Democrats and gain votes.
But in fact the policy has been largely
bipartisan.
To really understand why the poli­
cy has persisted we must look deeper.
We must confront the framework of
assumptions behind the drug war that
are (often unconsciously) shared by
many Americans. And we must see
how this paradigm operates politically.
The current policy is rooted in a
moralistic and punitive “drug-war
paradigm” that is accepted almost
reflexively by many Americans. It is
markedly different from the approach
to drugs among many Europeans,
Latin Americans, and others. And it
did not always guide conventional
wisdom or public policy in the United
States.
The assumptions of the drug-war
paradigm, created out of a series of

E va B ertram ’86 an d P rofessor o f P oliti­
c a l S cien ce K enneth S h arp e a re co ­
authors, with P eter A n dreas ’8 7 an d
M orris B lachm an , of Drug War Politics:
The Price of Denial, p u blish ed this sum ­
m er by University o f C alifornia Press.

political struggles early in this centu­
ry, have becom e almost common-sensical today. They hold that drug use is
morally wrong, that drug abuse and
addiction are the fault of misguided or
ignorant individuals, that drug-depen­
dent people are criminals, that related
problems such as disease and crime
are caused primarily by drug-taking,
that the government should try to
stop all drug use as quickly as possi­
ble, and that “getting tough” is the
only way to solve the problem.
These long-held assumptions have
set a highly intolerant and punitive
context for American drug-control pol­
itics. Elected officials believe they
must out-tough each other to win
votes and public support for their
policies, and their political rhetoric, in
turn, further reinforces the punitive
paradigm. Efforts to institute alterna­
tives— treatment, education, social
reform— are made to seem “soft.”
Such alternatives are underfunded or
dismissed and, when tried, they are
often undermined and distorted by
the punitive thinking of the drug war.
Politically powerful conservatives,
meanwhile, are able to sustain the key
symbols of the paradigm against chal­
lengers, attacking and demeaning crit­
ics and sidelining pragmatic alterna19

tives. Less zealous conservatives and
liberals, many of whom are skeptics
or closet critics of the drug war, have
been willing to go along or have cho­
sen to remain silent.

Fundamental Questions
Understanding how this paradigm
fuels the cycle of escalation and fail­
ure in the drug war helps focus atten­
tion on what it will take to turn things
around. For policymakers to argue
that the current drug strategy needs
to be reevaluated and redirected
would be to concede defeat in the
moral crusade against drugs. Nor will
generating a list of solid policy alterna­
tives do the trick. Given the current
punitive context, such alternatives
routinely fail to enter the debate.
What is needed is to ask the funda­
mental questions: What kind of prob­
lem is the drug problem? What are the
ends and means of drug control? What
are we trying to control and why?
And, given the character of the drug
problem, what are the limits of what
drug policy can achieve, and what is
likely to work? In short, what is need­
ed is a new debate and a new politics
of drug control— one that, over time,
will replace the current paradigm with
a constructive alternative.
But what would an alternative
paradigm look like? The most widely
publicized is the free-market
approach to legalization proposed by
political libertarians, who define the
drug problem in terms of the damage
to individual freedom caused by the
prohibition policy. They hold the
notion of free choice as central.
Though legalization advocates recog­
nize that drug-taking can lead to
addiction or to dangerous behavior,
they would leave the choice to indi­
vidual adults who are presumed to be
responsible for any consequences to
them selves or others. The state, they
correctly emphasize, has done far
more harm than good in attempting to
control drug use.
The legalization approach captures
an important critique of the drug war.
Many of the problems attributed to
drug-taking— especially drug-related
crime— are in large part the conse­
quence of the drug war policies them­
selves. Just as prohibition of alcohol
in the 1920s created a violent and
criminal black market in liquor, so too
has drug prohibition produced the

espite billions
spent on la w
enforcement, the drug
supply is virtually
unchecked, and street
prices have fallen.
Yet critics of the policy
are accused of beinq

D

extraordinarily high prices and profits
of the drug trade. Criminal organiza­
tions compete, often violently, for
these high profits, and those suffering
from drug addiction, particularly the
poor, are led to commit crimes to pay
the high prices. Ending prohibition,
say the legalizers, would lower the
price and the profits, and take much
of the crime out of the drug problem.
Within today’s punitive environ­
ment, it’s not surprising that policy­
makers— and many citizens— have a
hard time accepting this critique. The
idea that drug control policies are in
fact exacerbating some of the very
problems they seek to solve is too
counterintuitive and subtle a point to
penetrate the symbolically-charged
drug debate.
But there is another reason that the
legalization paradigm has not taken
deep root among the U.S. public. It
leaves unanswered the question of
what should be done about the harm­
ful effects that drug addiction and
dangerous drug use have on individu­
als and society. Some progressive
advocates of legalization argue for
adequate government services and
regulation in order to address the
health and other social effects of drug
use, but the legalization framework
itself does not provide adequate guid­
ance to shape public judgement or
public policy on this issue.

A Public Health Alternative

From opium busts in the 1920s
(left) to the seizure of tons of
drugs in the 1980s (top left and
right), the federal government has
pursued a zero-tolerance
approach. Will politics prevent
the current “drug czar,” Gen.
Barry McCaffrey (above), from
making changes in U.S policy?

There is another alternative to the
punitive paradigm that is as radical as
it is simple: approach drugs as a pub­
lic health rather than a crime prob­
lem. Seeking health as the goal of drug
control would mean pursuing policies
that heal rather than punish drug
abuse and addiction. And it would
mean approaching the control of the
drug supply in terms of how best to
further public health, rather than tilt­
ing at windmills in the struggle to
chase down and eliminate the globed
drug trade.
What would it mean to think of
drugs as a public health problem?
Start with reconceiving the drug user.
Caring for the health of people who
abuse drugs means minimizing the
harm they cause to themselves and
others and promoting their physical
and emotional well-being— not pun­
ishing or threatening them. But a pub­
lic health approach does not stop at

treating the individual physical or psy­
chological problem of addiction. It
recognizes that drug use and abuse
have other effects— on families, neigh­
borhoods, schools, and workplaces. A
public health strategy would seek to
minimize the harm a drug-dependent
person may do to his or her social
relationships. And it would minimize
the threat the drug user may pose to
the welfare of others, through policies
that discourage violence, dangerous
driving, irresponsible use of machin­
ery in the workplace, and the spread
of diseases such as AIDS.
Such an approach confronts not
only the public effects of drug-taking,
but also the social factors that can
lead to drug-taking. There is always an
element of individual choice in drug
use and abuse, but experts in treating
drug addiction have long known that
choice is shaped and constrained by
social factors. A person whose family
and friends use drugs is more likely to
do so. Someone with a family, home,
and job who becom es addicted is bet­
ter able to break an addiction than
someone without these social sup­
ports. To treat drugs as a public
health problem is to recognize that
drug abuse and addiction are not sim­
ply the result of an individual defect (a
weak will, a moral failing, a disease)
but also of the broader social environ­
ment that is shaped in important ways
by other public policies.
It is by no means simple or easy to
confront the many social factors that
feed the cycle of drug abuse and its
harmful effects. But adopting this
framework as a starting point makes it
possible to reconceive the fundamen­
tal purposes and policies of drug con­
trol. The policy instruments— preven­
tion, treatment, and law enforce­
ment— may remain the same, but they
take on different meanings and
assume different priorities under a
public health paradigm.
Consider prevention. Under the
current punitive paradigm, prevention
tries to stop any and all use, and the
primary means is to scare or threaten
users. Thinking about prevention this
way excludes the possibility of
employing the public health principle
of preventing harm by teaching peo­
ple safer drug use. Take the example
of designated driver programs that
aim to save lives by encouraging “des­
ignated drivers.” For punitive preven-

“Just say no to drugs, ” urged First Lady
Nancy Reagan. But a person can say “n o ”
to drugs only if he has som ething to say
“y es” to. A public health approach would
aim to im prove the social and econom ic
environm ent that breeds drug abuse.
tion advocates, in the words of one
government publication: “materials
recommending a designated driver
should be rated unacceptable. They
encourage heavy alcohol use by
implying that it is okay to drink to
intoxication as long as you don’t
drive.”
Public health advocates may also
wish to minimize drunkenness, but
they are looking for ways to promote
public safety and reduce harm.
Instead of simply aiming at the impos­
sible goal of “abstinence” or “no-intox­
ication,” they realistically accept that
there will always be some use and
seek ways to save lives on the road.
This idea of promoting safe use—
not simply no use— also undergirds
public health efforts to stem the
spread of AIDS by preventing intra­
venous heroin users from sharing
infected needles, one of the major
causes of the epidemic. Needleexchange programs, introduced in
parts of Europe and in som e U.S.
cities, encourage addicts to regularly
turn in their used and contaminated
needles in exchange for free sterile
22

ones. Yet despite the fact that welldocumented studies show that such
programs have succeeded in reducing
the rate of HIV infection by as much
as one third, they, like designated
driver programs, are opposed by
advocates of punitive prevention.
Many programs do not simply
exchange needles, but use the oppor­
tunity to encourage addicts to seek
services such as drug treatment and
include educational programs on sani­
tation and safe sex precautions. “Suc­
c e ss” is not simply measured by absti­
nence from drug use, but by the slow­
down in the spread of AIDS and the
increase in the number of addicts who
seek treatment.
Yet conceiving prevention under
the punitive, prohibitionist paradigm
rules out such public health mea­
sures. Today most states have laws
prohibiting addicts from possessing
injection equipment, and efforts to
permit needle exchange often face
fierce opposition. Robert Martinez,
drug czar under former President
George Bush, articulated the drug-war
paradigm’s assumptions when he
argued that distributing needles
“undercuts the credibility of society’s
message that drug use is illegal and
morally wrong....”
Consider also efforts to educate
young people about the dangers of
drugs. Under the punitive paradigm,
the focus of preventive education in
schools is scare tactics (the “feararousal” approach) and moral appeals
( “preaching” to students about the
evils of using drugs and exhorting
them to abstain). Evidence indicates
that such efforts do not work. In the
words of a 1990 congressional report,
“Putting forth the idea that all illegal
drugs are extremely dangerous and
addictive, when young people subse­
quently learn otherwise through
experimentation, discredits the mes­
sage.” Indeed the message often back­
fires, encouraging experimentation.
Envisioning preventive education
in terms of public health would
change not only its content, but its
scope. It would aim to provide young
people with information on the physi­
cal and psychological effects of all
psychoactive drugs (including alcohol
and other legal drugs)— as well as the
effects that drug-taking can have on
other things of value, such as work
and relations with friends and family.

Drug education for public health
would also teach safer use— even
while discouraging all use. Although
promoting safer use is contradictory
under a punitive paradigm that has
“zero tolerance” as its goal, no such
contradiction exists under a public
health paradigm.
Inevitably there will be some exper­
imentation and casual drug use
despite the best efforts to discourage
it. And those unwilling to abstain or
unable to quit need to know which
drugs are more addictive, which com-

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Drug W a r Politics:
The Price of Denial

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A professor and
two former students
write a book together
sem inar style.

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—

^ % e s e a r c h co lla b o ra tio n between
Im Sw arthm ore students and their fac­
ulty mentors is nothing new, but writing
a book with a former professor several
years after graduation has to be a bit
unusual. Drug War Politics: The Price of
D enial was co-authored by Professor of
Political Science Kenneth Sharpe, his
longtime collaborator, Professor Morris
Blachman of the University of South
Carolina, and two Honors graduates in
Political Science, Eva Bertram ’86 and
Peter Andreas ’87.
Bertram and Andreas had worked
together before—not only as Swarthmore students, where they took a semi­
nar together, but as Washington-based
policy analysts.
After graduation, each travelled in
South America. Andreas, thinking he
might become a journalist, worked at
The Nation and at Foreign Policy maga­
zine, and is currently a research fellow
at the Brookings Institution. Bertram
worked with several national nonprofit
organizations seeking to influence U.S.
p o licy in C entral A m erica and to
address violations of law and human
rights in the region. Both are currently
writing doctoral dissertations, Andreas
in Government at Cornell and Bertram
in Political Science at Yale.
In 1990 and 1991, Andreas and Bert­
ram found themselves working together
at the Institute for Policy Studies on
several projects related to drug policy.
They collaborated on a report of the

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binations of drugs are particularly
dangerous, how to prevent an over­
dose and what to do in the event of an
overdose, what kinds of conditions
make drug use more or less danger­
ous, and how to avoid dangerous
behaviors (such as unsafe sex or driv­
ing) while in toxicated .
Treatment would also take on a dif­
ferent meaning under a ppblic health
paradigm. Treatm ent under the drugwar paradigm is largely a supplement
to punishment. Both policy instru­
ments have the sam e aim— to stop all

drug use. This means that those who
enter treatment but cannot kick the
habit— quickly and permanently—are
often abandoned. Some are offered
treatm ent under the threat of severe
punishment: you break your habit or
you will be sent to jail. For those
already in the criminal justice system,
treatm ent works alongside punish­
ment— drug offenders are treated to
improve the deterrent value of prison,
in the hope that they will not commit
drug-related crimes upon release.
This approach to treatm ent is

reflected in budget battles in Washing­
ton. “There’s still almost a moralistic
feeling,” explained Dr. Herbert Kleber,
a prominent drug official in the Bush
Administration, “that asks ‘Why
should we be putting tax dollars into
treating something that people have
brought on them selves?”’ Thus treat­
ment providers are often forced to
justify their services as a crime-pre­
vention tool. In part as a result, treat­
ment always gets short shrift in bud­
get allocations (treatment and preven­
tion together account for about 30

House Committee on Governmental tics as “organic.” In many such books, Andreas “were able to bring a different
Operations on the drug war in the co-authors divide the topic into chap­ kind of experience to the process. Our
Andes. The congressional report was ters and independently write each sec­ work on Capitol Hill had given us a cer­
widely circulated, and Andreas says tion. It’s often clear when you have tain sense of how people in Washing­
that scholars and journalists in Latin p assed from one w rite r’s sty le to ton were thinking about this issue and
America were quick to point out its another’s, but the writing—and think­ of how policy was and wasn’t made.”
Their shared Swarthmore experi­
conclusions: “‘Look,’ they would say, ing— in Drug W ar P olitics is virtually
en
ce,
says Andreas, also inform ed
seamless.
‘your own government’s report says
Bertram tells how they their analysis: “Swarthmore is a fertile
that this policy can’t work.’”
did it, sem inar style: “We environment for encouraging critical
A ndreas and B ertram
would
sit down around a thinking in a systematic way, for chal­
passed the repprt along to
table and think through the lenging basic assumptions.”
Sharpe, who was then study­
Sharpe adds that “scholarship at
argument together, brain­
ing drug policy as a national
storming and testing differ­ Swarthmore is not a passive process—
security issue. For years his ^
ent ideas. Someone would you take on the big issues.” Drug War
research had been focused |
always be at the computer, Politics does just that, looking beyond
on politics and policy in Latin §
typing all th is up. W e’d the conventional wisdom on the issue
America. He and Blachman o
and examining why Congress and suc­
develop som ething, then
had co-written numerous arti- g W
cessive administrations have not been
print
it
out,
read
it,
and
cles to g eth er, plus a 1986 f “
react to it at a deeper level.” able to act in a rational manner.
book, Confronting R evolution:
Can a book like this bring about a
Then, she says, one person
Security Through D iplom acy in
change
in policy? Andreas hopes that
would
take
on
the
task
of
Central A m erica. Sharpe’s two
drafting that particular sec­ it will be “a bridge-builder.... This isn’t
other books have also exam­
tion, then hand it over to ju st an ad v ocacy book. T h e re ’s an
ined aspects of Latin Ameri­
a n o th er m em ber of th e underlying analysis of the reasons for
can politics, from the influ­
group to be rewritten. The these seemingly irrational policies. We
ence of multinational corpo­
four co -a u th o rs sp en t try to show why there’s so much per­
rations in Mexico to peasant
scores of hours together— sistence in the face of failure.”
movements in the Dominican
Sharpe, however, is not optimistic
mostly at an old cabin near
Republic. Andreas and Bert­
about
the prospects for rapid change,
Sharpe’s
Vermont
summer
ram proposed th at Sharpe
home—editing and revising especially in today’s anti-crime envi­
and Blachman work together
until a co m p lete b ook ronment. “Frankly, it’s discouraging,”
with them on drug policy.
he sighs. “The people who are actually
emerged.
The c o lla b o ra tio n th a t
Was there anything left of suffering the most—the people who
ensued, lastin g n early six
th e teach er-stu d en t rela­ are abusing drugs—are not politically
years before this, sum m er’s
tionship as they worked on active. And change will not come from
publication of the Drug W ar
the book? Maybe at first, a new president or one of the political
Politics, began with a winter
Bertram acknowledges, but parties becau se th ere are far m ore
1991-92 a rticle for F oreig n
“th e b rain sto rm in g and votes to be had by defining drug use as
Policy on the effects of the
writing p rocess created a a crim e and using it to prove your
drug war in South America.
lot of room for thinking out toughness. We think that the ‘front-lin­
Buoyed by the success of this
e r s ’— th e treatm en t p ro fessio n als,
loud, for ch eck in g each
project, the four embarked
o th e r. And c o n sta n tly social workers, police, judges, public
on a m ore com p reh en siv e
rew riting each o th e r s ’ defenders, and community activists—
history and critiq u e of the
work-—that helped break will have to be the ones to raise their
politics of U.S. drug control.
voices for change.”
down some of that.”
Sharpe describes the pro­
—Jeffrey Lott
Peter
Andreas
’87
She
feels
th
at
sh
e
and
cess of writing Drug War Poli­

AUGUST 1 9 9 6

23

C

percent of the drug-war budget).
The reasoning of most legislators is
simple: treatm ent might eventually
reduce use and ease crime, but in the
short term, wouldn’t it be m ore effec­
tive just to lock such people up? And
given the characterization of people
who use or sell drugs as criminals,
punishment— not “care”— seem s
more appropriate. Naya Arbiter, a
therapy director in Tucson, explained:
“Once we make drug addicts into the
enemy, society has a tough time tak­
ing them back in. Why would the pub­
lic want to pay for more treatm ent if
they’re dealing with the enemy?”
Under a public health paradigm,
the aim of treatm ent would not be to
complement punitive policies in the
effort to suppress any and all use. In
fact, total abstinence— “full recov­
ery”— is only one goal for public
health advocates. And for the majority
of addicts admitted to m ost drug pro­
grams, an Institute of Medicine study
reported in 1990, abstinence is not
realistic. The aim of treatm ent is to
reduce the range and degree of harms
caused by use. It is not only to
“reduce drug consumption but also to
permit the responsible fulfillment of
family roles; to help raise employment
or educational levels; and to make the
client less miserable and more com­

aring for the health
of drug users
means m inim izing the
harm they cause to
themselves and others.
W e need to under­
stand that drug abuse
is not sim ply the
result of a w e a k w ill
o r a m oral failing.

fortable physically and mentally.”
Methadone maintenance, one of
the most successful treatment pro­
grams for heroin addicts today, is
based on such public health goals.
Methadone, à synthetic opium deriva­
tive that stops the craving for heroin
but lacks many of heroin’s deleterious
effects, is provided to addicts at clin­
ics to help move them off heroin, into
treatment, and out of crime. Some
addicts eventually stop using both
m ethadone and heroin, but many con­
tinue to take methadone for years and
are able to lead healthier, more satis­
fying lives as parents, employees, and
m embers of the community.
But methadone treatment— origi­
nally sold to the American public by
President Nixon as a crime-fighting
weapon— is continually under attack
by those who think of treatment in
term s of the punitive paradigm.
Attempts to expand methadone clin­
ics in 1988, for example, met with
opposition by elected officials such as
Rep. Charles Rangel (D-N.Y.), thenchairman of the House Select Commit­
tee on Narcotics. Rangel, who favored

treatment programs
designed to end drug use
entirely, derisively labeled
■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ maintenance clinics “juice
bars.” He asked the Gener­
al Accounting Office to review federal­
ly-regulated methadone treatment
programs. Though the resulting
report criticized uneven practices, it
concluded that this form of treatment
offered substantial benefits. Rangel
chose to ignore this evidence and con­
tinued his attack. Such opposition is
rooted in punitive assumptions— i.e.
since methadone consumption is drug
use, and drug use is wrong, it must be
eliminated.
The approach to pregnant drug­
using women under the two
paradigms provides a further exam­
ple. Drug-dependent pregnant women
may give birth to newborns afflicted
with fetal-cocaine syndrome or other
health problems. Operating under
punitive assumptions, legislators in a
number of states have responded
with threats to punish these women in
order to discourage their drug use.
Some states criminalize women who
use drugs during pregnancy. Some
allow newborns who test positively
for drugs (and their siblings) to be
taken from their mothers and placed
in state custody. But from a public
S W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E BULLETIN

AP/W IDE WORLD PHOTOS

N eedle exchange programs (far left) are
often opposed on the grounds that they
encourage drug use, yet they are known to
reduce the rate o f HIV infection am ong
intravenous drug users. Drug raids clog
courts and prisons with drug offenders. In
1993, 61 percent o f all federal prisoners
w ere incarcerated because o f drug crimes.

AUGUST 1 9 9 6

Conclusion
Developing a new approach to drugs
in America is, of course, more than an
intellectual exercise. The current
punitive, drug war paradigm took hold
as a result of years of political strug­
gle— and reform will only com e about
through similar struggles.
Such struggles, our research
shows, are unlikely to be led by politi­
cians locked in a competition to outtough each other. They may, however,
be led by those on the front lines of
today’s drug war, people who have
firsthand experience of its failure.
Judges cannot dispense justice

AP/WIDE WORLD PHOTOS

health perspective, such punitive
measures seriously undermine the
prospects for treatment. Fearing pun­
ishment and afraid to lose their chil­
dren, many mothers choose not to
seek drug treatm ent or the prenatal
care that could dramatically improve
the life chances of their children.
Perhaps most important, treatment
under public health rejects the almost
exclusive focus on the individual drug
user emphasized by the punitive
paradigm and insists on also doing
something about the social environ­
ment that shapes the choices of those
who abuse drugs. Particularly for sub­
stance abusers who are poor, home­
less, or jobless, drug use is often seen
as a “solution” to other problems that
need fixing in their lives.
Without a “social stake,” argues
Thelma Brown of the Watts Health
Foundation, treatm ent cannot suc­
ceed: “One of the highest causes of
recidivism occurs when a client leaves
treatment. He or she is likely to be
forced to return to the very sam e envi­
ronment that contributed to the
addiction in the first place. What
awaits this individual is lack of
employment— and the old cycle of
hopelessness and h elp lessn ess.. . .
Upon completion of these [treatment]
programs, provisions should be made

for follow-through, such as providing
jobs, training and ed u cation .. . . One
can say ‘no’ to drugs, but we must
provide something to which one can
say ‘yes.’”
A public health approach would
not only redefine treatment and pre­
vention, but also law enforcement
policies. Under a public health
paradigm, those who committed
crimes or injured others under the
influence of drugs would certainly be
punished. But criminalizing drug
users because they have a health
problem would seem as misguided as
jailing heavy drinkers and alcoholics.
Given the aim to heal rather than pun­
ish those suffering from drug prob­
lems, a public health approach would
decriminalize drug use and instead
seek ways to draw users into the
health care system.
Public health would also demand
some regulation of the supply of dan­
gerous drugs. Simply legalizing drugs
such as cocaine and heroin would
make them as readily and cheaply
available as alcohol and tobacco, and
market greed and competition would
lead to continued wide-scale use and
active promotion. Controlling supply,
however, would only be one aspect of
a public health agenda, not the prima­
ry, overriding feature it is in today’s
punitive paradigm; prevention and
treatment would have primacy.

because their courts are clogged with
drug cases. Police charged with elimi­
nating drug dealers find that there is
an endless supply of new dealers to
take the place of those arrested.
Providers of drug treatment cannot
secure sufficient funds to keep their
offices open—yet more and more peo­
ple are knocking on their doors, seek­
ing help. Local communities are pay­
ing more in tax dollars, but drug
abuse and violence continue unabat­
ed in many neighborhoods.
These contradictions constitute
fault lines in the current drug-control
system. Modest struggles for change
are underway along these cracks, but
they are unlikely to succeed in isola­
tion. Drug problems and their policy
solutions are too much a part of deep­
er social issues and struggles— over
health care, urban decay, racism, and
econom ic underdevelopment in our
cities. But if such struggles are to cre­
ate the possibility for reform aimed at
public health, concerned citizens and
front liners with practical experience
in treatment, prevention, and criminal
justice will have an invaluable role to
play in charting a new politics of drug
control. ■

At 13, this Louisiana girl is involved in the
fight against drugs. But if she or som eone
she loves does take drugs, will treatment or
punishment be a better solution?

A L
Alumni Council
Members for

1996-97
For the address or telephone
number o f any m em ber o f the Alumni Coun­
cil, call the Alumni Office (610) 328-8402, or
e-m ail alumni@swarthmore.edu.

Officers of the
Alumni Association
President
Alan A. Symonette 7 6 (Zone A)
President Designate
Elenor G. Reid ’67 (Zone F)
Vice President
Glenda M. Rauscher ’69 (Zone G)
Vice President
John A. Riggs ’64 (Zone D)
Secretary
Jacqueline Edmonds Clark 7 4 (Zone F)

Members of Alumni Council
Zone A (Delaware, Pennsylvania)
Mitchell K. Black 7 4
Greeley, Pa.
Doris Morrell Leader ’44*
York, Pa.
Matthew R. Lieberman ’95
West Chester, Pa.
David Newcomer ’80
York, Pa.
Joseph M. Ortiz 72
Merfon Station, Pa.
Anne Matthews Rawson ’50
Swarthmore, Pa.
Jack Schecter ’96
Quakertown, Pa.
Barbara Seymour ’63*
Swarthmore, Pa.
Anne Titterton ’86
Philadelphia, Pa.
Zone B (New Jersey, New York)
Penelope Owens Adelmann ’66*
Scarsdale, N.Y.
Alice Higley Gilbert ’48
Garden City, N.Y.
Mark F. Guenther ’94
Blairstown, N.J.
John W. Harbeson ’60
Croton-on-Hudson, N.Y.
James A. Perkins ’34
Princeton, N.J.
Robin Mery Potter 72*
Westfield, N.J.
Susan A. Rech 79
Plattsburgh, N.Y.
26

Harlan Stabler Sexton 79
Bronx, N.Y.
Zone C (Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts,
New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Vermont)
Christine Frasch Caldwell 74
Stratham, N.H.
Roberta A. Chicos 77*
Arlington, Mass.
J. Andrew Daubenspeck ’66*
Lebanon, N.H.
Dean W. Freed ’43
Acton, Mass.
Margaret D. Gold ’95
Hartford, Conn.
Marilyn Modarelli Lee ’56
Greenfield, Mass.
Lisa A. Steiner ’54
Cambridge, Mass.
Zone D (District o f Columbia, Maryland,
Virginia)
Sarah A. Adams ’94
Baltimore, Md.
Margery G. Dunn ’63
Washington, D.C.
Cynthia Norris Graae ’62*
Washington, D.C.
Anne Newman Hirshfield 70*
Columbia, Md.
Colleen A. Kennedy 72
Arlington, Va.
Betty Jo Matzinger Lash ’87
Alexandria, Va.
Barbara D. Merrill ’69
Washington, D.C.
Andrew D. Pike 72
McLean, Va.
Zone E (Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas,
Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska,
North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, South
Dakota, Texas, West Virginia, Wisconsin)
Diana Scott Beattie ’56
Morgantown, W.Va.
Charles L. Bennett 77
Chicago, 111.
Andy Feldman ’96
Whitefish Bay, Wis.
Dagmar Strandberg Hamilton ’53*
Austin, Texas
Jean L. Kristeller 74
Terre Haute, Ind.
Linda J. Lee ’69*
New Berlin, Wis.
Melissa Dietz Lojek 72
Grand Rapids, Mich.
Dorothy Watt Williams ’50
Urbana, 111.

U

M

Zone F (Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Geor­
gia, Kentucky, Louisiana, Mississippi, North
Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, territo­
ries, dependencies, and foreign countries)
Eileen Nixon Meredith ’65*
Atlanta, Ga.
Elizabeth Letts Metcalf ’42
Coral Gables, Fla.
Christine L. Moe 79
Atlanta, Ga.
MarkT. Shullenberger 72*
Paris, France
Jean R. Sternlight 79
Tallahassee, Fla.
Zone G (Alaska, Arizona, California, Col­
orado, Hawaii, Idaho, Montana, Nevada,
New Mexico, Oregon, Utah, Washington,
Wyoming)
C. Geoffrey Davis 73*
Burlingame, Calif.
Stratton C. Jaquette ’66
Los Altos, Calif.
Judith Aitken Ramaley ’63
Portland, Ore.
Joanna Dalrymple Stuart ’55
Portland, Ore.
Richard R. Truitt ’66*
Portland, Ore.
Members at Large
Cynthia A. Jetter 74
Philadelphia, Pa.
Debby Van Lenten ’90
Hamden, Conn.
Connections Representatives
Chair o f Connections: Don Fujihira ’69
New York, N.Y.
Boston: Rishi Reddi ’88
Roxbury, Mass.
Los Angeles: Walter Cochran-Bond 70
Altadena, Calif.
New York: Jim DiFalco ’82
New York, N.Y.
North Carolina: Priscilla Coit Murphy ’67
Chapel Hill, N.C.
Paris: Elizabeth McCrary ’83
Paris, France
Philadelphia: Martha Salzman Gay 79
Fort Washington, Pa.
San Francisco: Sohail Bengali 79
Redwood City, Calif.
Seattle: Deborah Read ’87
Seattle, Wash.
South R orida: Mark Shapiro ’88
Miami, Fla.
Washington, D.C.: Dorita Sewell ’65
Chevy Chase, Md.

*Elected to Council in 1996
S W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E BULLETIN

d

i

g

e

s

t

North C aro lin a: N orth C a ro lin a
Swarthmoreans turned out in Durham
for food, swimming, and a potluck din­
ner on Ju n e 15. T h e aftern oon was
organized by George Telford ’84 and
Priscilla Coit Murphy ’67.

Philadelphia: Sw arth m ore se n io rs
joined the Philadelphia Connection for
the Phillies vs. Dodgers game in May.
San Francisco: The San Francisco con­
nection enjoyed a screenin g of C old
F ever, produced and co-written by Jim
Stark ’71. Jim joined the group for din­
ner before the film.

Seattle: In June Seattle Sw arthm ore­
Tim M alarkey ’89 gets down to work dur­
ing the Washington, D.C., Connection’s
“Christmas in A pril” service project. More
than 60 alumni, parents, and friends spent
the day together cleaning and fixing up a
Washington, D.C., hom e.

Recent Events
New York: In May the New York Con­
nection g a th e re d for S w a rth m o re
Symposium IX— ’’W ines of Germ any
with P eter Sich el.” David W right ’69
and Don Fu jih ira ’69 organized th e
wine ta s tin g . In Ju n e th e grou p
enjoyed A1 C arm in es’ [’58] m usical
play Martyrs an d L u llabies. Theatre By
The B lind ’s B lin d S p o ts was on tap
later in the month. Ike Schambelan ’61
organized th e e v e n t. On Ju n e 26
Sw arth m oreans e n jo y e d a p e r fo r­
mance by V an eese Thom as ’74 and
Rob M athes at th e New Life Cafe at
Middle C ollegiate C hurch. Freem an
Palmer ’79 hosted the event.

Luce Scholarships to Asia
Alumni under age 30 with no previ­
ous ca reer in terest or academ ic
concentration in Asian studies, and
little or no exp osu re to East or
Southeast Asia, are invited to apply
for the Luce S ch o lars Program ,
which funds a year in Asia. For
more information on the program,
contact the Career Planning and
Placement Office at (610) 328-8351.

ans w atched C old F ev er, then gath­
ered at the Big Time Brewing Compa­
ny for casual conversation. The outing
was organized by Deborah Read ’87.

W ashington, D.C.: On Ju n e 2 th e
Washington, D.C., Connection met at
la Madeleine for a wine tasting featur­
ing French wines. D orita Sew ell ’65
planned the event.

UPCOMING
EVENTS
Note; In th e C olleg e’s 1996 en g ag e­
m en t calen dar, th e d ates fo r the
O ctober h olid ay a re incorrect.
P lea se n ote th at it is th e w eek o f
Oct. 14th— n ot th e 21st.

Volunteer Leadership Weekend/
Alumni Council Fall Meeting
S eptem ber 20-21
Homecoming
O ctob ers
Fall Weekend
O ctober 25-27
Parents Council Fall Meeting
O ctober 27
Black Alumni Weekend/Alumni
Council Spring Meeting
M arch 21-23
Parents Weekend
A pril 18-20
Alumni Weekend
Ju n e 6-8

The Alumni Association wants to hear from you!
P lease write to Alan A. Sym onette 76, president, Sw arthm ore C ollege Alumni A sso­
ciation, in care o f the Alumni Office, 500 C ollege Avenue, Sw arthm ore PA 19081.
Candidates for Alumni Council:___________________________________ I______

Candidates for Alumni Managers:

I’d like to serve as a resource for the Career Planning and Placement Office.
I’m willing to:
□ Talk with students or alumni about career opportunities in my field
□ Provide leads for summer jobs or unpaid internships
□ Participate in a career panel on campus
□ Provide summer housing for employed students
My job/career description:___________________________________________
I wish Alumni Council would do something about:_______________________

Name/Class Year: ______________________________________________________ .

\

..................................................................................................................................................................- ..................... J
AUGUST 1 9 9 6

27

ore than 1,000 alumni, along with
guests and children, returned to
campus for the annual rites of
Alumni Weekend. Here, in snapshot form,
is a sampling of the generations who came
back to enjoy the many activities— and
each other. Clockwise from left: Collection
speaker Makoto W atanabe ’61, chief of pro­
tocol and foreign relations adviser to the
Emperor of Japan; Suzanne Kirschner 78;
the “energized” Class of 1936; offspring of
the Class of 1976 inheriting the banner honS W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E BULLETIN

ors; Elizabeth Beattie Allen ’83 with son
William and daughter Diana; seven gobs
and a gal from the War Years; Norman
Wright ’86 and daughter Chelsae; alumni
artists Eb Froelich ’86, Patricia Lykens Han­
kins ’66, and Pamela Casper 7 6 whose
works were exhibited in the List Gallery;
J.C. Johnson ’66 and daughter Katherine
Brainard; transportation old and new; Pres­
ident Alfred H. Bloom with Larry Shane ’56.
Center: The Class of 1971 holds its own Col­
lection in the Crum.
AUGUST 1 9 9 6

Bursting with Energy
Catherine G o o d A b b o tt 7 2 is the n ew C E O o f the n a tio n ’s s e c o n d largest gas com pany.
ow does a religion major from
Swarthmore become CEO of the
second largest natural gas storage com­
pany in the U.S.? “Life’s a journey,” said
Catherine Good Abbott ’72, “and
Swarthmore is a wonderful training
ground for searchers.” Abbott was
appointed CEO of Columbia Gas Trans­
mission Corp. and Columbia Gulf Trans­
mission Co., the two interstate natural
gas pipeline subsidiaries of Columbia
Gas System in January 1996, putting her
in charge of 3,600 employees and 23,000
miles of pipeline.
“Today’s college graduates can
expect to have four or five different
careers—we just did not know that
when we started out,” said Abbott. “Our
concerns coming out of college in the
1970’s revolved around making a contri­
bution to society—having an impact in
the “real world.” I started out college
thinking I wanted to be a research
chemist, but by my sophomore year, I
found myself inexorably drawn to being
a religion major. While I contemplated
studying for the ministry at that time, I
had the feeling I needed to live out my
values in the world, and so I turned to
public policy.”
After getting a degree in public poli­
cy from the Kennedy School of Govern­
ment, Cathy had the opportunity to
work on the first national energy plan
for the Carter White House. “Energy was
a big issue in the mid-1970’s, and I
became intrigued with the policy ques­
tions about the proper role of regulation
vs. market forces. This led to a special­
ization in natural gas policy, which
opened up a whole set of career oppor­
tunities I never contemplated at Swarth-

H

Andrew ’77, and all his
Swarthmore friends. My
cousin Nancy P. Speers, wife
of David Speers ’41, whom
many of you knew at the
Friends Historical Society and
at her house over on Drew
Avenue, died in December.
She was a good friend to many
of our generation. Also I’d like
to extend our sympathy to
Barney Voegtlen, whose
younger sister, Barbara, died
last year, and to Anne
Reynolds Voegtlen, whose
father died last year too. Final­
ly, our sympathy goes to Vin50

“Swarthmore taught m e to take responsi­
bility for my actions—to go out on a limb
and risk something, ”says Abbott.
more.” After six years as a policy ana­
lyst for the federal government, Abbott
was recruited to start the first policy
analysis department at a natural gas
pipeline trade association.
In 1985, Abbott and her husband,
Ernie (also from the Class of 1972, with
a J.D. and M.P.P. from Harvard as well)
started thinking about possibilities out­
side of Washington, D.C. “Both of us had
wonderful opportunities in the federal
government to affect significant regula­
tory reform—I in the natural gas indus­
try and Ernie at the Interstate Com­
merce Commission and at the Environ­
mental Protection Agency, but we
began to wonder whether having our
entire careers inside the Beltway was
really a healthy thing to do.” When
Abbott received an offer to join the

cent E. E. Iyahen, who was
widowed in 1994.
BACK TO BRAVOS: Vin­
cent has returned to the Unit­
ed States after spending a
dozen years promoting
democracy in Nigeria. Ken De
Fontes is serving his second
year as president of the Mary­
land Food Committee, a non­
profit organization dedicated
to ending hunger in Maryland.
Steven Glass has nearly made
it through a double dose of
the terrible twos and has
merged his company, Rain­
bow Healthcare, which pro-

innovative energy company Enron
Corp. as a vice president, and Ernie had
the opportunity to join Tenneco Energy
as an attorney, both agreed to move to
Houston. There Abbott had a chance to
work with current Columbia Gas Sys­
tems Chairman Oliver G. “Rick” Richard,
an industry legend who tapped Abbott
for her current job soon after he took
the reins at Columbia in mid-1995.
And why, did Richard want Cathy
Abbott for his top lieutenant at
Columbia? “It’s simple,” he says. “We
wanted someone with an extensive
background in the energy business—an
innovative, dynamic leader. Cathy was
the perfect choice.”
Now the Abbott family is returning to
the Washington area, where Columbia
Gas is locating its new headquarters.
Ernie is setting up shop as an energy
and law consultant—and taking inten­
sive Spanish lessons. “This is a new
phase in our lives and careers,” reflect­
ed Abbott. “The challenge of running a
company in an increasingly competitive
era draws on all my previous experi­
ences—even the religion major. Swarth­
more really taught me to take responsi­
bility for my own ideas and actions—to
go out on a limb and risk something.
Those are helpful lessons when you are
constantly trying out new things.”
And what about those 20-year-old
visions of having an impact on society?
“I believe that there is a way to lead
companies that draws out the human
potential of the employees. In a sense,
my calling today is to bring about signif­
icant cultural change in a humane way.
It is a challenge I could not resist,”
Abbott said.

vides psychiatric and mental
health services, with APOGEE.
William Prindle has recently
appeared in local productions
of Ja k e ’s Women and
Amadeus. Thomas Snyder is
going great guns as the chair­
man of Tom Snyder Produc­
tions, which specializes in
“Software for Teachers who
Love to Teach.”
GOSSIP CORNER: Linda
Bovard refused to believe
most of these titbits: Anne
Reynolds Voegtlen is helping
salmon procreate; Eric T.
Dean just got his Ph.D. in Civil

War history from Yale; Meg
Seaker had a bear on her
doorstep this winter; Kevin
Chu recently starred as
Dorothy in a governmentfunded production of The Wiz­
ard o f Oz; Bob and Kath
Bums Vaughan have two
kids, Daniel and Elizabeth,
who are possibly even more
attractive than their parents;
Cariey Cunniff has lived next
door to Leonard Bernstein
and is still a knockout; Marian
Young of sexiest-voice fame in
the Class of ’72 has a literary
agency in NYC and welcomes
S W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E B U L L E T IN

Recent Books by Alumni
We w elcom e review copies o f
books by alumni. The books
are donated to the Swarthm oreana section o f McCabe
Library after they have been
noted for this column.
Philip John Davies (sp.)
(ed.), Representing and Imag­
ining America, Keele Univer­
sity Press, 1996. International
authors of the 24 brief, origi­
nal essays in this collection
offer an analysis of the way
we perceive and interpret
the United States, as the
country constantly reinvents
itself.
Elborg Forster and Robert
Forster ’49, Sugar and Slav­
ery, Family and Race: The Let­
ters and Diary o f Pierre
Dessalles, Planter in Mar­
tinique, 1808-1856, The Johns
Hopkins University Press,
1996* A translated version of
the journal kept by Pierre
Dessalles, this book provides
not only a look at his daily
business operation but also
the society around him—the
slaves, the white Creoles, the
future of the colony, and his
own goals and obligations.
Gilbert Harman ’60 and
Judith Jarvis Thomson, Moral
Relativism and Moral Objec­
tivity, Blackwell Publishers,
1996. Do moral questions
have objective answers? In
this volume the two philoso-

say that Mamiko is loving life?
Jenneane Jansen married
Kris Palmer Sept. 2,1995.
Ken Dinitz is in New York,
where he works at WNYC,
New York Public Radio. “I’m
helping our not-for-profit buy
the radio licenses from the
City of New York and keep
Mayor Giuliani from selling
them to the highest bidder.
Things looks good. NPR is safe
in the Big Apple!”
Congratulations to Judith
Kalish, who recently graduat­
ed from culinary school in
Vermont. She’s now working
58

phers offer independent
arguments—Harman’s
account of moral relativism,
emotivism, and skepticism,
and Thomson’s rejection of
the case against moral objec­
tivity—and replies to each
other.
Janet Hart 74, New Voices in
the Nation: Women and the
G reek Resistance, 1941-1964,
Cornell University Press,
1996. Hart places the resis­
tance movement in an inter­
national context by examin­
ing how the struggle to pro­
mote political culture among
ordinary people took shape
in the course of the battle
against Axis powers and uses
insights from former parti­
sans, histories of black con­
sciousness, and her own per­
ceptions as an African Ameri­
can to explore topics of cur­
rent concern.
Suzanne R. Kirschner 78,
The Religious and Romantic
Origins o f Psychoanalysis:
Individuation and Integration
in Post-Freudian Theory, Cam­
bridge University Press,
1996. Drawing on a wide
range of religious, literary,
philosophical, and anthropo­
logical sources, Kirschner
traces the origins of contem­
porary psychoanalysis back
to the foundations of JudaeoChristian culture, challenging
the prevailing view that mod­
ern theories of the self mark

in Boston at Hamersley’s
Bistro. Fred Field wrote, suc­
cinctly, I might add, “I’m half­
way through second year at
Tulane Med. School. Finished
up a master’s degree in tropi­
cal health this semester. Go­
ing to Honduras for Christmas
(’95). Rough life.” Junji Shimada, his wife, Kaoru, and their
3-year-old daughter, Saki, have
moved to Washington, D.C.,
where he is first secretary of
the Japanese Embassy. An­
drew Picken is in his third
and final year of internal medi­
cine training at MetroHealth

a radical break with religious
and cultural tradition.
Scott Lehmann ’64, Privatiz­
ing Public Lands, Oxford Uni­
versity Press, 1995. The U.S.
government owns roughly
one quarter of the nation’s
land, and managing it is
expensive and often con­
tentious. Some argue that the
problem is collective owner­
ship itself; the solution would
be a move toward privatiza­
tion, to direct privately
owned resources to their
most productive uses.
Lehman argues that there is
no way of understanding
“productive.”
Julia Moore ’94, While You
Sleep, Dutton Children’s
Books, 1996. Written for chil­
dren ages 1-3, this illustrated
bedtime book tells about all
the events, great and small,
that unfold while baby
sleeps: “clouds flock, ants
talk, sea plants sway, clown
fish play.”
Francie Ostrower ’81, Why
the Wealthy Give: The Culture
o f Elite Philanthropy, Prince­
ton University Press, 1995.
Focusing on the New York
City area, Ostrower uses the
results of a series of inter­
views to explore the motiva­
tions of individual donors
and the significance of phi­
lanthropy for the culture and
organization of elite groups.

Medical Center in Cleveland,
Ohio. “I have avidly followed
the Cleveland Indians and will
gladly host any classmates
who want to come to a game
next year. We could also catch
the Rock ’n’ Roll Hall of Fame!”
he writes. Jennifer Heister
Gorski is a geriatric psychi­
atric consultant in nursing
homes in the Syracuse, N.Y.,
area. David Scholze and
Annie McQuilken ’89 have
built a house in Superior,
Colo., where they live with
their 2-year-old daughter,
Caitlin Jane. Jim Moskowitz

Maiy McDermott Shideler
’38, Starting Out: Stage I in the
Series: Visions and Night­
mares, Ends and Beginnings:
A Woman’s Lifelong Journey,
Scribendi Press, 1996. More
than a memoir, this book is a
historical record of Shideler’s girlhood in the 1930s,
conveying her struggles, tri­
umphs, joys, pain, and life­
long search for real meaning
and validity.
Peggy (Bebie) Thomson ’43,
Katie Henio, Navajo Sheepherder, Cobblehill Books/Dutton, 1995. Text and pho­
tographs give a glimpse of
life in New Mexico, as Katie
Henio drives her sheep,
works at her loom, or col­
lects plants for her dyes and
medicines. This book is for
children aged 9 and above.
In other m edia...
Jerom e David Goodman ’55,
Modem American Classics,
Volume II, MMC Recordings,
1996. This compact disk con­
tains the three movements of
Goodman’s Symphony No. 2,
performed by the Warsaw
National Philharmonic
Orchestra conducted by
Jerzy Swoboda. Also on the
CD are Earl George’s Introduc­
tion and Allegro, Stephen
Griebling’s Queensmere: Dec­
em ber 1964, and Ray Bokhour’s Angel Butcher.

has been busy running “The
Unknown Composer’s Page”
on the Internet, where he rec­
ommends out-of-the-way clas­
sical music to others on the
World Wide Web. Jim has
enjoyed recent press atten­
tion from the LA. Times,
among other publications.
Mina Baisch finished nursing
school in December 1994 and
has been working as a nurse
practitioner at a clinic for lowincome pregnant women and
their babies. Mina says, “I do
mostly babies—I love it!” Last
winter, on a weekend in
S W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E B U L L E T IN

If Music be the Food ...
E le m e n t o r elegy, sy m b o l o r sym p h on y, fusion o r fugue— fo r B a ird D o d g e ’90,
p ro fe ssio n a l violist the ch o ic e at first w as n o t clea r cu t
;

ow many of us as youngsters,
shunted into learning a musical
instrument by doting parents, became
momentarily stagestruck at a recital,
forgot the tedium of practice, and enter­
tained dreams of future stardom? Not
Baird Dodge ’90. Even though he stud­
ied violin from age 4, even though his
father is the celebrated electronic music
composer Charles Dodge, even though
his mother is also a musician—Baird
Dodge majored in chemistry. But wait...
now he’s playing viola in the Chicago
Symphony Orchestra.
Throughout his childhood, he says,
“music was always around.” As a Suzuki
student and later as a violist in high
school, Dodge found his recitals and
concerts “in no way memorable.” And
practicing his instrument was never one
of his favorite pastimes. His father had
pointed out (no doubt from personal
experience) that a career in music is
fraught with difficulties, risks, and
obstacles, so Dodge never even consid­
ered majoring in music at Swarthmore.
After spending his freshman year “cast­
ing about for something to do,” he set­
tled on chemistry. He was good at it,
and he found it easy and interesting.
Yet in October 1995, after several
grueling rounds of auditions, he was
selected to join the Chicago orchestra.
Recognition of his true vocation was
long in dawning.
Now it is the musical experiences of
college that Dodge remembers—perfor­
mances of works such as Copeland’s
’’Appalachian Spring” with the chamber
orchestra, or Mozart’s “Vespers” togeth­
er with the chorus. Still, anticipating life
as a chemist, toward the end of his
senior year Dodge started to send out
resumes to pharmaceutical companies,
aiming to land an entry-level lab job.
Oddly, he never followed through on
the applications. Dodge credits Swarth­
more with guiding him toward the grad­
ual realization that his “extracurricular”
musical activities did indeed involve
him in a way that none of his other
interests could. Always deterred by the
fact that he had never had the desire to
practice with the zeal required to be
successful, he underwent a change in
attitude during his association with
Geoffrey Michaels, a violinist/conductor, who as Music Department artist-inresidence from 1983 to 1987 coached
the Swarthmore orchestra and chamber

H

60

Baird Dodge ’90, violist with the Chicago
Symphony Orchestra, credits Swarthmore
with guiding him toward his vocation.
music groups.
Dodge says, “For the first time I real­
ized that if I really put time in and con­
centrated along the lines that he taught
me, I could improve dramatically. It
became more satisfying, more fun and
for the first time my mother wasn’t
telling me I had to practice. 1was doing
it myself—seriously and in a dedicated
way.” Performances became increasing­
ly “wonderful, inspiring, and satisfying
experiences,” something sessions in a
chemistry lab failed to offer. He found
himself enjoying it so much that music
as a profession “just didn’t seem that
crazy any more.”
After freelancing in the Philadelphia
area for two years after graduation,
Dodge enrolled in a master’s in music
program at the State University of New
York at Stony Brook, then spent a fur­
ther year freelancing. Simultaneously he
had many opportunities to perform his
father’s work, notably his Concerto
Etudes for violin and tape and hisV7o/a
Elegy, another composition for viola and
tape, which he performed at the War­
saw festival of contemporary music in
1991, and which he has also recorded
on CD with Albion Records. He has
come to appreciate the high standards
set by his father and the chance to per­
form his pieces. He sees their collabora­
tive efforts as “an opportunity not many
people have of seeing what their par­
ents’ work really means to them and of

really participating in it with them.”
Dodge says that he feels lucky to be
with the Chicago Symphony and has no
plans to move on, although he finds the
idea of a full-time position in a string
quartet “intriguing.” For now the hectic
uncertainty of freelancing has given way
to a steady rhythm of fixed weekly
rehearsals and performances—and
occasional tours within the United
States and abroad. He is able to practice
with more focus, at the same time hav­
ing freedom to choose outside chamber
music projects. He is also quite
impressed with the work ethic of the
orchestra members. “Sitting in a sec­
tion, where you don’t have an individual
voice, nor any input into how a piece is
interpreted,” he says, “there is a danger
of becoming disillusioned, of seeing
yourself as just a cog in a great orches­
tra machine.” But his fellow musicians,
he says, take the utmost pride in their
work, enjoy what they do, and are con­
cerned about the way they sound.
This heightened morale, Dodge feels,
is largely due to the orchestra’s musical
director, Daniel Barenboim, who Dodge
describes as an “imaginative and won­
derful musician who inspires when he
conducts.” Dodge and Barenboim have
also had a somewhat special relation­
ship since Dodge, in his first weeks with
the orchestra, actually managed to miss
a Tuesday-evening performance, not
realizing that it began a half-hour earlier
than on other weekdays. After apologiz­
ing to a sympathetic and gracious
Barenboim for his mistake, Dodge made
sure to be there punctually every
evening after that, only to have Baren­
boim catch his eye and mouth to him
after each performance during the
applause, “Tomorrow 8 o’clock,” or
“Tomorrow 7:30—it’s Tuesday.”
And although the orchestra mem­
bers maintain exceptionally high stan­
dards of musicianship, don’t think for a
moment that they spend their intermis­
sions and rehearsal breaks practicing
music. In fact Dodge emphasizes, “My
years at Swarthmore have served me
well in another respect too. One very
specific transferable skill gained there
was my ability to play ping-pong, which
I practiced in Tarble—fortunately, as we
have a ping-pong table in the dressing
room. And the level of play is very high
in the Chicago Symphony.”
—Carol Brevart
S W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E B U L L E T IN

Memories of Mephisto’s
Today “M ephisto’s ” is just another
name for the Willets lounge. But in the early
1980s it was one happening place.
By Ruth Goldberg *81

I

n 1989, during an impromptu visit to
Swarthmore, Ira Gitlin ’80 and I were
surprised to find the main lounge of
W illets dorm itory still referred to as
“Mephisto’s.” Part of the surprise was
that no one seem ed to know why—
but we did. M ephisto’s was a weekly
coffeehouse that began in the fall of
1978. On Sunday nights students per­
formed— often several short acts in an
evening— in that sam e location where
coffee, tea, and donuts could be pur­
chased. For us it was a predominantly
W illets affair. In la ter y ears it drew
audiences from around cam pus. But
by the time of our 1989 visit, the cof­
feeh ou se was gone, as was th e sign
th a t w en t w ith it. O nly th e n am e
remained.
What follows is what I rem em ber—
p erh a p s o th e rs will co m e forw ard
with th e ir p ieces of th e M ep h isto’s
story.'
No o n e e x p e c te d M e p h isto ’s to
becom e an institution. Early in the fall
of 1978, Marc Freedman ’80, a Willets
R.A., told me he wanted to start a lowkey venue to encourage new perform­
ers. He borrowed the name of the new
coffeehouse from friends [see box].
M arc told m e th a t I was ju st th e
kind of person he envisioned at this
venue. I was a sophom ore singer with­
ou t m uch of an o u tle t b ey o n d th e
shower. Though I had sung with my
fam ily and in a high s c h o o l ch o ra l
group and had done som e actin g, I
d id n ’t p la y g u ita r w ell en o u g h to
accom p an y myself. I had joined the
Sw arthm ore ch oru s freshm an year,
found it frustrating and im personal,
and had not returned th e next year.
So I feared that would be the extent of
my performing life at Swarthmore.
M arc suggested I ask Ira— a good
64

Marc Freedm an ’80 (above) was the
im pressario behind the coffeehouse
in Willetts lounge that showcased
dozens o f young perform ers
betw een 1978 and the mid-1980s.
At left are Dave Edelman ’83, Ira
Gitlin ’80, and Ruth Goldberg ’81.

Popular perform ers at M ephisto’s included Corduroy Road. From left: Charlie
McGovern ’80, John Stetson ’79, Ira Gitlin ’80, and John B anzhaf ’79.
S W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E BULLETIN

friend who played b a n jo with Cor­
duroy Road, a popular cam pus bluegrass band— to accom pany me on gui­
tar. Accordingly, Ira and I worked up
five or six songs, and we were the first
act on the night M ephisto’s opened,
September 24, 1978. T h e oth er per­
formers th a t even in g w ere C harlie
McGovern ’80 and Dave Kerrigan ’79.
Both w ere relativ ely sea so n ed per­
formers. Charlie, a versatile musician
and singer who led Corduroy Road,
had an awesome solo repertoire that
ranged from jazz to folk to pop. Dave
fell more solidly in the folk camp, and
1most remember his ability to imitate
Bob Dylan— to great effect.
Ira and I w ere regulars at Mephis­
to’s until I graduated. I saw lots of fel­
low student musicians perform there,
including Greg C oe, th e la te Geoff
Trindl, and Luisa Lehrer, (all ’81); Ari
Eisinger, Dana Lyons, (both ’82); plus
Ken Schaphorst ’82 with his jazz band,
Breeze. Mephisto’s was also home to
poetry, and so m e tim es p lays. T h e
strangest act I recollect was a visiting
duo from H am p sh ire C ollege. One
read neo-beat poetry, while the other
accompanied him on slide trombone.
I believe that m anagem ent of the
coffeehouse passed from Marc Freed­
man to Nancy Friedman ’82, and then
to Jan e R o s s e t t i ’8 2 . At m y 15th
reunion in June, I was con tacted by
NewYork artist Jessie Winer, who had
taken over Mephisto’s in 1981 and run
it until she graduated in 1984. Jessie
says that Serge Seiden ’85 took it over
when she left. During Jessie’s tenure,
a number of singing ensem bles debut­
ed at M ep histo’s: Sixteen Feet, The
Dinning Sisters, (founded by Debbie
Felix ’8 3 ), T h e G rap evin e, and th e
Septa Connection, started by Karen
Searle ’84.
Jessie’s list of musical regulars also
included Ju d y E d elm an ’87, Sarah
Gentry (T isch ler) ’82, Laurie Matheson ’84, and D avy T e m p e rle y ’87.
There were variety nights with lots of
performers each doing a song or two.
Among th e m o re m e m o ra b le a c ts
were a juggling troupe that included
Ben Druss ’85 and Sue Sullivan ’83;
and a read ing of Dr. S e u s s’s G reen
Eggs a n d H am , co n d u cted by Jo h n
AUGUST 1996

Mackay ’84 with assistance from Erica
M a rcu s ’84, w h ich drew a re c o r d
crowd.
Jessie and her sister Debbie ’83 had
w orked in th e a te r p rior to Sw arthm o re . Not su rp ris in g ly , d ram a
becam e a more prominent feature of
Mephisto’s. Jessie founded and direct­
ed The Mephisto Players, a group that
performed plays, including three writ­
ten by D ebbie; Je s s ie also painted
p o s te r s and d e sig n e d s e ts . (T h e
posters becam e collector’s items and
often disappeared.) One poster collec­
to r was P hyllis Raym ond ’54, th en
associate dean of admissions; she and
English L itera tu re P ro fe s so r P e te r
Schmidt were probably the only two
faculty or administration members to
frequent M ephisto’s. Eventually The
M ephisto Players moved to T arble,
where sets could be left up for longer
periods than at Willets. Their perfor­
m a n ce o c c u rre d ju s t a few w eeks
before Tarble burned down in Sept­
em ber 1983.
At my recent reunion, many class­
m ates cou ld n ’t rem em b er going to
M ephisto’s. But they did rem em ber
popular groups like Corduroy Road,
T h e K id s, B re e z e , and T h e D ead
B e a rs— m any of w hom had played
th e re . A pparently th e c o ffe e h o u se
itself stopped sometime between 1985
and 1987, yet the name lives on.
F o r m y se lf, I ca n h o n e s tly sa y
M e p h is to ’s ch a n g e d my life . T h e
group I’m in now— T h e U rban Leg­
ends— is a direct d escendant of my
Mephisto’s act. We even play some of
th e sam e songs. After gradu ation I
didn’t perform at all for a while. But in
1986 Ira m oved to th e W ashington
area, and in 1989 we had our debut in
th e “real w o rld ,” at a lo ca l c o ffe e ­
h o u se. O ver th e y e a rs w e’ve b een
jo in e d b y tw o o th e r frie n d s and
becom e a real band, and we recently
produced our own recording. None of
this might have happened if there had
been no Mephisto’s. And who knows
how many other performers got their
start on Mephisto’s stage? ■
Ruth G oldberg is a w riter an d
resea rch er fo r Tim e-Life B oo k s, an d
le a d sin g er fo r T he Urban Legends.

M ephisto the What?!

I

always yearned for som e measure of
immortality in Swarthmore lore, but I
never thought it would com e from my
taste in late-night snacks. One night dur­
ing our sophom ore year, Charlie
McGovern ’80 and I created a fictional
character based freely on the retro per­
sona of singer-guitarist Leon Redbone.
He was an anthropomorphized smoked
oyster. We named him— for no particu­
lar reason— Mephisto.
Nattily dressed, the mysterious mollusk brandished a lit cigarette and usu­
ally spouted some vaguely hip-sounding
comment.
Our first sign for the coffeehouse was
a bedsheet crudely stenciled in red
paint. A wooden sign replaced it in
February 1979. Steve Podell ’81 did the
carpentry; I laid out the design and did
som e of the painting, but the finishing
touches were applied by Carol Forney
’81. Instead of the usual “Oh yes ...” or
“Too cool for words ...,” Mephisto’s car­
toon balloon proclaimed, “Your mes­
sage here” and gave the phone number
on Marc Freedman’s hall.
By the time the sign mysteriously dis­
appeared— probably in the late ’80s—
it’s likely that no one on campus knew
what that dapper blob in the center was
supposed to represent.
— Ira Gitlin ’80

A Campus Kaleidoscope o f the Arts
arents, alumni, and friends of Swarthmore
will make exciting discoveries at Fall
Weekend, October 25-27, when the College
presents a kaleidoscope of the visual and perform­
ing arts.
Swarthmore’s student body has always included
more than its share of talented dancers and musi­
cians, gifted artists, and aspiring actors. But many
alums remember when they had to pursue their
muse on their own time—as an extracurricular
activity, in a club, or even in not-so-splendid isola­
tion. Academic credit for work in an art form was
rare, and its value often debated.
Today Swarthmore recognizes and celebrates
the role of art, music, dance, and drama in the cur­
riculum. And while the College still attracts
promising dancers who turn into surgeons, and
brilliant cellists who go on to practice law, many of
our graduates have developed careers of distinc­
tion in-the world of the arts.
At the same time, the ranks of the faculty have
expanded to include outstanding professionals in
painting, sculpture, and other media; actors, direc­
tors, and theatrical designers; instrumentalists,
conductors, and composers; and dancers and
choreographers.
Fall Weekend will offer opportunities to explore
an exciting spectrum of artistic creativity by stu­
dents, faculty, and alumni. Guest artists from the
celebrated Ridge Theater Company will also per­
form. The campus is at its scenic best in October,
and visitors will also enjoy strolling the grounds,
watching men’s and women’s soccer and field
hockey, and getting acquainted with the Class of
2000!
You can get more information by calling the
Alumni Relations Office, (610) 328-8402, or on the
Internet, alumni@swarthmore.edu.

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