SPAN Primaries: First Step
III Pursuit of by James MacGregor Burns'
Meet Senator Brooke
by Peter Barnes
The Candid Champion or Tennis
by Hal Higdon
Family Planning: Questions and Answers
Check, Double-Check by Nancy Blanchette
In Cold Blood-Viewed
by Joseph Epstein
Where Children Teach Themselves
by Hillel Black
New Foods from Science
Lure of the American Far West
by V.S. Nanda Front cover In the lush, evergreen forests of Washington State, loggers are at work floating logs down the river to sawmills. A story on Washington and other States of the American Far West begins on page forly-two. W.D. Miller, Pltblisher;
Back cover """" Evelyne Beers, daughter Marlha, member~ of a trio of (olk singers who recently toured several Indian cities as part of the Festival of American Performing Arts. More pictu res of Festival on pages 2-7.
Dean Brown, Editor;
V. S. Nanda. Mg. Editor.
Editorial Staff: Carmen Kagal, Avinash Pasricha, Nirmal K. Shanlla, Krishan G. Gabrani,P. R. Gupta. Art Staff: B. Roy Choudhury. Nand K. Katyal, Kanti Roy. Kuldip Singh Jus, Gopi Gajwani. Productioll Staff: Awtar S. Marwaha, Mammen Philip. Photographic Services: USIS Photo Lab. Published by the United States Information Service. Bahawalpur House, Sikandra Road, New Delhi, on behalf of the American Embas;,y, New Delhi. Printed by AfUn K. Mehta at Vakil & Sons Pvt. Ltd., Narandas Building, Sprott Road, 18 Ballard Estate, Bombay-I. STATEMENT
The following is a statement of own'ership and other "articulars about SPAN magazine as required under Rule 8 of the Registration of Newsraper (Central) Rules, 1956. 1. Place of Publication ... Ullited STates Information Service, Bahawalpur House, Sikandra Road, New Delhi-I /IIonthly 2. Periodicity of its Publi~ation 3. Printer's Name Arun K. Mehta Indian Nationality Vakil & Sons Private Ltd., Address Narandas Building, Sprott Road, 18 Ballard Estate, Bombay-J William D. Miller ' 4. Publisher's Name Nationalit) American Bahawalpur House, Sikandra Road, Address New Delhi-J Dean K. Brown 5. Editor's Name Nationalit) American Buhawalpur House. Sikandra Road. Address New Delhi-I The Goverllmelll of the United Stales 6. Names and addresses of individuals who of America own the newspaper and parlners or shareholders holding more than one per cenl of tho total capital I, William D. Miller, hereby declare, that the particulars given above are true to the best of my knowledge and belief. Date: March
SPAN OF EVENTS
LAST MONTH the Overseas Press Club of America, an organization made up of prominent American journalists, chose from a long list of candidates twelve world figures as "Heroes of Our Time." Among the dozen selected as leaders of this century were Mahatma Gandhi, Franklin D. Roosevelt, John F. Kennedy and Winston Churchill. Another name that appeared on the list was somewhat less weIIknown-that of Jonas B. Salk. Yet, his contribution to humanitymade fifteen years ago-williast.as long as mankind exists. In 1953, thirty-eight-year-old Dr. Jonas Salk. a quiet American research scientist, culminated years of intensi\(e research with the discovt~ry of a vaccine to prevent poliomyelitis. one of the world's greatest cripplers of chilJren. Dr. -Salk, using funds given him by a voluntary American organization, the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis, worked with associates at the University of Pittsburgh to develop the vaccine. Following announcement of the discovery, trials were carried out in 1954 throughout the U.S. and 440,000 school-children were inoculated. Fdund safe and effective, it was put into world-wide use. Mass application of the Salk vaccine and a later oral vaccine developed by another American, Dr. Albert Sabin. has resulted in dramatic decrease in the incidence of polio around the world. In the United States the number of polio cases dropped from an annual average of 27,864 during 1951-55 to 121 in 1964; in Can.ada from 3,922 to 21; and in the United Kingdom from 3,872 to 50. While reliable statistics for India are not available, polio vaccine is now being extensively used,in urban areas and there is reason to believe that the incidence of the,disease is on the decline. The Pasteur Institute of Southern India at Coonoor produces polio vaccine in India: Considerable production equipment at the institute was provided by the United States. There was a brief controversy over the patent rights to the vaccine when it was ready for mass marketing, but Dr. Salk himself put a quick end to it. The scientist was asked who owned the proprietary rights to the discovery. His reply was short and sure. "The people," he said. For his discovery, Dr. Salk asked-and received-nothing but his regular salary as head of the virus-research laboratory at the Univer: sity of Pittsburgh':-and the recognition of a grateful world. \
Ollce a common sight, the tragedy of a polio-stricken child all cruTches and strappe.d in a brace is no longer necessary, thanks to Dr. Jonas Salk. The American scientist is shown above injecting his vaccine during country-wide field trials in the U.S. in 1954 before it was releasedfor use throughout the world.
For the past few weeks, three cultural groups-a trio of folk singers, a string quartet, and a modern dance troupe-have been touring India in a Festival of American Performing Arts. The photographs on these pages record some of the highlights of their visit-their meetings with dancers and musicians, and their concerts, which earned high praise from Indian critics.
Crities ehoiee FOLK MUSIC knows no barriers, as Bob, Evelyne and Martha Beers discovered on their visits to a dozen Indian cities, towns and even a tribal village outside Ranchi. Everywhere they went, newspapers commented on the warmth and sincerity of their performances. After one concert, a reviewer wrote: "It was a happy evening, with much laughter and goodwill but also with much to ponder over-the charm of family life and the fireside, of quiet winter evenings with dear ones."
Complete rapport with university audience is achieved by Beers at Patna, left, as he performs tricks, unusual feature of his concert repertoire. Tennessee bow
and fiddlesticks, below left, were among wide assortment of musical instruments, folk artefacts with which the Beers toured India.
Martha's presence on stage, right. Her father says, "Even today when we pellorm, we/eel we are still in our living room."
Eager students surround Martha Beers, below, plying her with a hundred questions on the things that interest and unite young people everywhere.
Sitar structure is explained by- musician Ziaul-Hassan, right, to visitors and friend who were astonished at instrument's range and potential. Karnatak musician's unconventional way of holding violin intrigues Quartet during recital arranged in All-India Radio, Hyderabad, studio.
MEMBERS OF THE Philadelphia String Quartet received their introduction to India in Hyderabad, the first city in which they performed. "We were charmed by that beautiful and gracious city," said violinist Veda Reynolds, "and overwhelmed by the hospitality, the kindness, the gifts that were showered on us." During the musicians' four-day stay there, they heard several Indian musical instruments-the veena, the violin, the sarode, and the sitar. "Of them all, I think we were most impressed by the sitar," said violist Alan Iglitzin.
"We were also amazed at your fantastic tabla rhythms; there is nothing as complicated or sophisticated in Western music." Leaving Hyderabad, the Quartet made concert appearances in several other Indian cities. :Typical of the press notices received throughout its tour was the comment: "The little group attained Promethean dimensions with their staggering interpretative range, and the stunning technical skill which they possessed individually and as a highly sensitive musical organism."
Shopping expedition finds musicians buying Hyderabadi bangles. Miss Reynolds nearly missed plane by dashing to market for 13 himroo stoles.
of lofty ceilings, sparkling chandeliers in Hyderabad Women's College, below, provides appropriate setting for chamber music.
Ever-changing pattern of sound, light and movement is woven by the Murray Louis dancers in "Landscapes," left, during New Delhiperformance.
held by the Beers Family on Patna street, above, draws children who had probably never heard American folk music before.
makeup are admired by Murray Louis and troupe members at a lecturedemonstration to explain this dance-drama form.
for audiences in India was "Junk Dances," far left, described by newspaper critic as "the one that brought the house down."
IN BRINGING THREE different groups to India, the Festival of American Performing Arts reached out to people of varied cultural tastes. While the folk singers attracted crowds of young people, mostly university students, the Philadelphia Quartet's concerts were attended by thousands of Indians interested in Western classical music. The modern dance group headed by Murray Louis had perhaps the smallest following, largely because its genre is relatively unfamiliar in India. Despite this, its concerts were greatly appreciated -judging from audience and press reaction. One theatre critic commented: "It is obvious that Mr. Louis is a highly creative choreographer
who uses his splendid dancer's body as an instrument to bring out the most unexpected choreographic achievements." A reviewer paid tribute to the group's "magnificent technique, superb bodies and lighting which carried the wizard's hallmark," while another observed, "The troupe weds boundless creativity and virtuosity to humour and poetry." Reviewing the entire festival, a New Delhi newspaper concluded: "If the sole purpose of the American artistes who performed in the capital ... had been to demonstrate the range and dynamism of the performing arts in the United States, their visit must be judged a total success."
â€˘ Presidential primaries are an especially valuable feature as long as we see them as part of the whole elaborate process of choosing the Chief Executive. The seeming disarray of the Presidentialprimary system reflects a great virtue-its openness. Presidential aspirants who otherwise might be closed out by party leaders can use the primaries as a way to demonstrate their popular appeal. In 1960 John Kennedy HARRYTRUMANONCEdismissed Presidential primaries as "just eyewash." With several was cut off from two centres of Democratic weeks of primaries, two conventions and a Party power: the old Presidential Democratic long autumn campaign still ahead of them, Party leadership headed by Mr. Truman, and many Americans will find equally cutting the Senate Democratic leadership under Lynwords for the whole process of choosing don B. Johnson. Kennedy outflanked these power centres by invading the primaries. Presidents. The empty slogans and tired war cries of Wendell Willkie and Estes Kefauver also used the spring primaries; the preposterous claims this access route; such candidates are not before each poll and the elaborate rationalizaalways successful in the end, but at least they tions afterwards; the frenzied attention to have the chance to show their mettle. local problems at the expense of fresh and Another virtue of the Presidential primaries is that they help single out the more creative proposals on national problemsthis and the rest of the whole confused process broadly representative candidates. The aspirant must test his standing with a variety of will bore and depress many Americans. The conventions will come in for criticism, interests, sections and localities. He can show his strength in urban and suburban areas such too; they will seem to be rigged by back-room politicians, swayed by phoney demonstraas New Jersey, big States like California and tions. And the Presidential campaign this Illinois, Eastern sea-board States like New year will seem too long. too expensive and too Hampshire, Western States like Oregon, farm subject to the distortions and caprice of the States like Nebraska and South Dakota. HapElectoral College. Is all this really the best pily the States with Presidential primaries are a fairly good cross-section of the whole counway to choose a President? My answer is yes. This system for choosing try, aside from the Mountain States. People are confused by the great variety of Presidents is almost ideal, it seems to me, and certainly preferable to the major alternatives types of Presidential primaries, but this is a that have been proposed, such as a single virtue, too. The primaries subject the candination-wide Presidential primary. The State dates to different types of election machinery, shifting sets of competitors, varying ranges of This article has been reprinted with special permission from the New York Times Magazine. popular attitudes and voter participation. Some primaries are "sudden death" contests ÂŠ 1964 by the New York Times Company.
In spite of its seeming disarray, the U.S. Presidential primary system has the virtue of openness and helps single out the more broadly representative candidates.
between two men, as between Nelson Rockefeller and Barry Goldwater in California in 1964; others are less conclusive. Some primaries permit only party regulars to vote; others allow independents to take part and even members of the opposition party. Clearly under this system the results of no one primary can be conclusive-something forgotten by political pundits who tried to count out Rockefeller or Goldwater just on the basis of the New Hampshire primary, which was won by Henry Cabot Lodge in 1964.The Presidential-primary system is not a tournament that slowly narrows the field down to one man. Nor is it a horse race that picks a single winner in one grand contest. It is a roundÂˇ robin with a variety of results that must be assessed in the light of the whole political situation-precisely the function performed by delegates in convention. The national conventions of the Democratic and Republican parties next August will also be representative, but in a different way. Dominated by the party regulars, the conventions will sift out the extremists and nominate a candidate who stands close to the consensus of the party, who can be depended on to present the party's case to the voters, and who will be popular enough to bolster the whole party ticket at election time. The much maligned smoke-filled room is simply one of the mechanisms for finding this consensus. A final argument for this Presidential selection process is the most compelling of all. It tests Presidential candidates for the same qualities they must display in the White House. What do the people want in a President? No selection machinery is guaranteed to produce great Presidents, but the system should measure a man against the specific demands
FI"RSTSTEP IN PURSUIT OF THE PRESIDENCY
of the job he seeks. The American Presidency is widely recognized as "the toughest job on earth." The selection process is exacting and it should be. If the primaries and the conventions and the autumn campaigns are exhausting and nerve-racking, so is the crisis-ridden Presidency. Stripped to its essentials, the Presidency requires two cardinal political skills: the ability to appeal directly to mass publics, at home or abroad, and the ability to negotiate ~ith rival leaders holding separate and independent bases of power. A President must be both a preacher ,and a politician. Obviously he must know how to reach and inform and arouse popular feelings in his own country; magnetic and articulate Presidents like Wilson, the two Roosevelts and Kennedy have known also how to stir tremendous responses abroad. The Presidential primaries test a candidate's ability to enter a political situation a long way from his home base, sense the voters' needs and attitudes and win support even against local favourite sons. Kennedy did all this in 1960 when he overcame a formidable local vote-getter in Oregon, Senator Wayne Morse. If the results in New Hampshire this month foreshadow other primary outcomes, several of the current Republican aspirants will fail to cross this hurdle; they may reveal themselves to be simply regional candidates, little more than favourite sons. This test of a candidate's appeal to a variety of publics is an obvious one that will oontinued Informal meetings, such as this with a group of coal miners in West Virginia, were a feature of Kennedy' s campaign during the primaries.
Planning bis strategy carefully and assisted by a versatile staff, Kennedy operated on many fronts at the same time and won every primary be contested.
occupy the attention of political observers for weeks to come. Less obvious, because it is a much less visible part of the nomination process, is the way in which the Presidential-selection system measures a politician's second great talent-negotiating with rival leaders. Amid all the hubbub of primary contests wetend to forget that only a third of the States hold Presidential primaries for the selection and direction of their delegates to the national conventions. Most of the States choose convention delegates in party conventions and committee, often with little attempt to discern the candidate preferences of the party rank and file. The delegation is often dominated by a key party leader or office-holder-by a Governor or Senator or big-city boss or by a coalition of leaders. The candidate must employ all the arts of persuasion, conciliation, gentle threat and virtuous temptation in dealing with thesemen. They hold most of the political cards. They can court other candidates; make promises; indulge in the fine art of political bluff; yield on some matters and not on others; manoeuvre and compromise, just the way foreign leaders do. The Presidential aspirant indulges in all these arts, too. The result is often a political trade in the form of implicit understandings and expectations. A classic example of such -a trade was Franklin Roosevelt's approach to House Speaker John N. Garner in 1932. Negotiations were conducted through James A. Farley for Roosevelt and Congressman Sam Rayburn for Garner. There were no explicit deals-simply an understanding that at the right time an understanding would be possible. The right time came after the third ballot at the Democratic convention in Chicago. Roosevelt's drive seemed to be stalled, but at the crucial moment Garner came through with the big Texas delegation-for Roosevelt. In return he won not only the Vice Presidential nomination but an added influence for Texas Democrats in the national Democratic Party that has lasted to this day. This is not a closed-off game wholly controlled by the political leaders and insiders. It all takes place in a political context of ultimate popular control. Even a State party leader who runs his delegation "lock, stock and barrel" knows that some day he and his fellow leaders must face the voters in some
election, and hence he cannot cavalierly reject a popular national candidate. Nor are the States with Presidential primaries free of influence from party leaders. In some States these leaders control the outcome of Pre sidential primaries far in advance by arranging one "official" slate which often has no opposition in the primary. Typically, then, a State offers a complex combination of leadership control and rankand-file expression, and this is the acid test of a candidate's Presidential quality. For here he faces a political situation that will confront him time and again in the White House, whether he is dealing with a Senator, a House committee chainnan, a Southern governor or a foreign leader. The President must analyse, calculate, bargain and negotiate, always with the ultimate possibility-at least outside the Communist countries-or some kind of direct popular appeal. How much power does the rival leader have? What kind of opposition does he face in his own bailiwick? Can he come through on either his threats or his promises? How much is bluff? Can his local rivals be made to defect? The Presidential candidate, in short, must deal not merely with one political leader, not merely with the rank and file, but with the whole structure of leadership and followership in a State. This process comes to a grand climax at the convention when the candidate calls in all his political credits under the rapt gaze of the nation. Much has been made of boss-controlled conventions; but actually the candidate must deal not only with heads of State "machines" but with sub-leaders, factions and scores of individual delegates. There are many bosses. This system is hard on dark horses. Only men who have spent months negotiating with party leaders and appealing to their followers arrive at the convention with enough cards to hope for nomination. Perhaps this year some little known aspirant will suddenly come to the fore and win, but if he does, it will be a resu!t of very special circumstances. The trend has been against dark horses in recent decades and this is all to the good, for the Presidency is too important to be entrusted to a man who has not shown his ability to meet the great tests of the nomination process. Kennedy's tremendous effort of 1960 will stand as the prototype of the Presidential
nomination campaign of the future. Kennedy made his decision early; planned his strategy carefully; dealt with party leaders at the same time that he cultivated his personal popularity with the voters; built a brilliant central campaign staff; raised a big campaign chest; and fashioned so complex and versatile a field staff that he could operate on many fronts at the same time. He carried every primary he chose to. contest, and won support in every leaderdominated delegation where he chose to fight -a virtuoso performance that foretold much of Kennedy's capacity as President and one that some Presidential aspirants today must be restudying with awe. Many do not share my enthusiasm for the present nomination process. Some would replace the national convention and the whole delegate-choosing machinery with a single nation-wide Presidential primary. Under this device candidates would vie for the Presidential nomination just as they do now for State nominations for governor or senator. The great virtues of such a system would be its simplicity and its accessibility to the party rank and file. But these might be its only virtues. A national Presidential primary would be enormously expensive for the candidates, for they would have to rely heavily on television and radio and newspaper advertising, and would not have the financial support from the whole party that would be available in the autumn campaign. A "one shot" Presidential primary might be swayed by a man who caught hold of a strong but passi ng gust of pu blic opinion -a military hero returning from some wartorn front and promising victory, or a demagogue capitalizing on some crisis or prolonged frustration at home. A national Presidential primary would provide much direct control by the voters, but so does the present system, because party leaders will not choose a Presidential candidate who cannot meet the test of a highly competitive election. It is precisely because the autumn election provides direct control by the voters that the candidate-choosing process can stress other qualities in a candidate besides immediate popular appeal-long experience in party and public affairs, ability to work with other leaders, demonstrated capacity to stand up under pressure and crisis, political judgment and wisdom. The nomina-
with well-wishers is part of the election ritual for every candidate. Here, Nelson Rockefeller, a Presidential candidate in 1964, is greeted by a woman voter in Tarrytown, New York.
tion process, in short, is inseparable from the election process. And surely the crowning glory of the whole system is the autumn campaign. Walt Whitman said that he knew "nothing grander, better exercise, better digestion, more positive proof of the past, the triumphant result of faith in human kind, than a well-contested American national election," and the system has probably improved with time. In the short span of ten or twelve weeks, under the closest scrutiny of the press, the candidates must mount a vast political enterprise, pose and reinterpret their party platforms, link their campaigns with those of hundreds of other candidates and try to bring the wholeeffort to a grand climax just before election day. The candidate must aim appeals at special interests without alienating the national electorate; hew to the party line without being overly partisan; appear forthright but not extremist, specific but not tedious, explicit without tying his hands too much; he must engage his opponent without being dominated by him. A national election is the final great ex-
pression of democracy, a time of deep and uninhibited sharing by the people in the decision-making process, a time when the confusion and the clowning and the vulgarity are tolerated because the collective voice in the end rises above all this and registers the people's collective wisdom and aspirations. Above all, this is a national effort, which more and more forbids candidates to say one thing in the East or North and something else in the South or West, because the candidates' battle is a national arena before a national audience. U.S. Presidential elections have met the harshest tests of history, operating triumphantly amid depressions, hot wars and cold, domestic strife. In this century they have produced great Presidents, some "near-greats" and only one or two duds. The most striking and beneficial feature of American national elections is their competitiveness. Candidates simply cannot get away with the evasions and deceptions and sheer guff that mark many local elections. Many House seats and some Senate ones are safe constituencies that are carried by the same party year after year by heavy margins. Presi-
dential elections on the other hand are usually carried by small popular margins. Competitive politics makes for healthy, broadly inclusive politics. Each party and candidate must appeal to a wide variety of interests and also to the general public's conception of the national interest. The Presidential-election system does, of course, have a major shortcoming-the Electoral College. Its critics point out rightly that the winner-take-all arrangement, under which a candidate with only a bare majority of the popular vote in a State gains all the electoral votes, enhances the power of the liberal urban vote. The racial, ethnic, labour and religious blocks, it is said, come to hold the electoral balance of power in the big "swing" States and compel Presidential candidates of both parties to make extreme liberal commitments. But the argument should not be pushed too far, as it often has been. Americans are becoming an increasingly urbanized and suburbanized people, and inevitably candidates will cater to this swelling vote. And if Presidential candidates do over-represent the urban vote, this is fair compensation for the over-representation of rural, conservative votes in Congressional districting, organization and ~achinery. It seems likely that Americans will go on for many years choosing Presidents in essentially the same way. This need not preclude some minor reforms to improve the system. For example, the adoption of one or two Presidential primary systems in the Mountain States and perhaps in the South would help provide a better sense of the candidates' national popularity. Also the conventions can be improved. They should be made more representative through better apportionment; they should be somewhat smaller to permit more focused discussion; and they should meet more often to discuss policy and platform. Finally, if the Electoral College cannot be abolished, at least we can require that Presidential electors pledged to some candidate and party live up to that pledge, so that we have less chance that a Presidential election might be thrown into Congress. But the Presidential-election system should not be tampered with too much. Compared to the weaknesses in other areas, it is low in the priority list of reform. END
Forty-eight-year old Edward Brooke, Negro American legislator, was elected to the U.S. Senate from the State of Massachusetts where ninety-seven per cent of the population is white. A man of many impressive qualities, he is building a record as one of the most progressive and respected members of the Senate.
Meet Senator Brooke THOUSANDS OF EXCITEDpeople milled through the Sheraton-Plaza Hotel in Boston, waiting for Edward W. Brooke to come out and speak to them. It was election night, 1966, and two million voters in Massachusetts had gone to the polls earlier in the day to choose their Senator, Governor, Congressmen and other State officials. The race for Senator was a particularly important one. The two leading candidates were Endicott Peabody, a former Governor of Massachusetts, and Edward Brooke, the State's Attorney General. Brooke, a Negro, was the Republican candidate; Peabody, a strong supporter of civil rights, was a Democrat. By midnight, enough votes had been counted to show that Brooke was the winner. The televisio:l cameras moved in close; the crowd in the Sheraton-Plaza began to cheer loudly. Edward Brooke was about to make his victory statement. "The people of this great State," Brooke declared with emotion, "have answered all of the people who would divide us and would keep men from being brothers. They have given to the world the answer that it has been awaiting, that so many people have questioned. I had faith in their answer. I knew what their answer would be: People in Massachusetts judge you on your merit and your work a]one!" Today Brooke is hard at work in Washington, representing the people of John F. Kennedy's native State and building a record as one of the most progressive and respected members of the Senate. At fortyeight, he has a long and bright career ahead of him. Speaking invitations pour into his office, attesting to the fact that he is among the most popular political leaders in the country. He has been mentioned as a possible Republican candidate for Vice President, either in 1968 or 1972. Though for the present he is more concerned with doing a good job as Senator than with seeking higher office, he has never discouraged the idea that he might some day run for Vice President, or even President. "I like to think," he says, "that any man in this country-including a Negro-could be elected President if he has the qualifications." Many people think that Brooke has all the qualifications. Whether or not he ascends to higher office, Brooke's rise to prominence already has profound historical meaning for the United States. He is not the first Negro Senator. After the Civil War, when Northern
soldiers occupied the South and many white Southerners who took part in the secession movement were barred from voting, the State of Mississippi sent two Negro Senators to Washington. In those days all Senators, North and South, were chosen by the State legislatures, rather than by the people. In 1913 a constitutional amendment was passed which provided for the popular election of Senators. Brooke in 1966 received the votes of 1,213,473 citizens of Massachusetts438,712 more than Peabody received. Thus he is the first Negro in United States history to be elected Senator by the people of an entire State. What is of more contemporary importance is the fact that Massachusetts is not an "occupied" State, as Mississippi was after the Civil War, nor is it a State with a large proportion of Negroes. The people of Massachusetts are a diverse lot. As one of the early industrial centres of America, Massachusetts was populated in the nineteenth century by immigrants from England, Ireland, France and Portugal, and in the twentieth century by Italians, Poles, Greeks, Armenians and East Europeans. There are only ]20,000 Negroes in the State; ninety-seven per cent of the population is white. Brooke is a man of impressive qualities. He is a lawyer and served for four years as Massachusetts' Attorney General-the highest law enforcement officer of the State. He has written a book, The Challenge of Change) in which he scolds his own Republican Party for its errors. As a Senator, he has been staunchly independent. He has voted against his party when he saw fit, and frequently has supported the Democratic Administration. He is thoughtful, articulate and scrupulously honest. Beyond doubt, the secret of Brooke's success is a personal magnetism that is in many ways similar to John F. Kennedy's. Brooke is tall, handsome, athletic-looking. Like Kennedy, he is a politician of extraordinary sagacity who at the same time possesses an open, forthright nature that instinctively appeals to the ordinary citizen. When he smiles, his eyes light up warmly. His private conversation is always candid; in front of audiences, he can spellbind listeners with an eloquence that is never demagogic, but usually persuasive. These qualities have attracted for Brooke a following that is loyal to him with an intensity that few men in public office inspire. Perhaps his greatest strength-the inner force that sustained him throughout the many years when he was virtually unknown-is his unshakable confidence in himself and in the ultimate fairness of the society in which he lives. Like President Kennedy, the first Catholic to be elected Chief Executive, Brooke knew he was treading on political ground that had not previously been crossed. But he never doubted that it could be crossed-that he could cross it; and his victory not only has vindicated his own faith, but will, undoubtedly, encourage many other Negroes throughout the United States to seek high elective office. The man who now represents Massachusetts in Washington is no stranger to that city. Brooke was born in Washington in 1919of middie-class parents. His grandparents had moved to Washington from Virginia in the 1890s as part of the general northward movement of Negroes following the removal of Federal troops from the South and the end of the so-called Reconstruction period that followed the Civil War. Brooke's father became a lawyer for the Federal Government. Brooke himself went to school in Washington and graduated from that city's Howard University in 1941. He was a well-liked student who planned to be a doctor. But the war took him to Italy, where he fought with an all-Negro infantry unit in the Apennine Mountains. His duties included making contact with the Italian partisans who were fighting the Fascists and the Nazis. In the process he learned to speak Italian fluently and, shortly after the war ended, he met and married Rernigia Ferrari-Scacco, a young woman from Genoa. (continued)
sible. The United States and the Soviet Union have a number of com mon interests-such as controlling the spread of nuclear weaponsand I believe these should be pursued earnestly." Though he is the first Negro to be elected Senator by the people 01 an entire State, Brooke stoutly resists all attempts by others to labe him "the Negro Senator." "I am no more 'the Negro Senator' thau Brooke's war experience had a profound effect on his thinking. John Kennedy was 'the Catholic President.' I did not run to be thE Injustice and violence were all about him; he became increasingly first popularly elected Negro Senator. Frankly, I just wanted to bE aware that Negroes in America were not enjoying the full human Senator-like any Senator from Massachusetts or any of the other equality that they fought for as American soldiers. To correct some of States. If the Republican Party or the Senate treated me strictly as 'the these indignities, he decided to study law and go into politics. Negro Senator,' I would not have stayed in this job, because that is After the war, Brooke enrolled in Boston University law school. He contrary to everything I believe in. I have always thought that great graduated in 1948 after serving as editor of the Law Review, a position progress could be made if a man who just happened to be Negro could of high honour. In 1950, at the age of thirty-one, he made his first entry be elected to represent all the people of a State. Of course I will fight into politics: running, unsuccessfully, for the Massachusetts State for racial equality-I would do that whether I was Negro or white. legislature. He ran again, also unsuccessfully, in 1952. In 1960 he was But civil rights is only one of the issues confronting the country and the Republican candidate for State secretary, and again lost. But he the world today. I am equally concerned with other serious problems remained active and in 1962 obtained the Republican nomination for that our generation faces." State Attorney General. This time he won. The problems that are most on Brooke's mind are those that derive Some of Brooke's most difficult political moments came in 1964 from the disparities between wealth and poverty. "We see such starwhen the Republican Party nominated Barry Goldwater for President. tling contrasts everywhere we look," Brooke says. "In the world at Goldwater had voted against the Civil Rights Act of 1964, stating as large, the overwhelming majority is poor. Outside of North America his reason his belief that the legislation as written was unconstitutional. and Europe, and a few outposts of prosperity like Australia, Japan Brooke differed strongly on this view and a wide range of other issues. and Israel, life for most of the world's people is agrim, relentless strugDespite the fact that they were both members of the same party, gle for daily bread. Obviously the gap between the rich and poor Brooke refused to support Goldwater for President. The election re- nations is not the fault of the rich nations, but rather a measure of their success. We cannot, however, leave most of the world's people sults in 1964 were decisive: President Johnson defeated Goldwater overwhelmingly, and Republican candidates everywhere were buried in misery while we race ahead to greater and greater luxury. We must in the Democratic landslide. But Brooke not only was re-elected Attor- help supply these nations with that which is most essential for their ney General, his victory by more than three quarters of a million economic self-development, and which they are least able to supply votes was the largest plurality achieved by any Republican in the country that year. It was after his election that Brooke wrote his book Brooke's election campaign approach to voters is non-racial. He refers to his Senate victory as proof that people "judge you on your nu;rit." strongly criticizing Republicans for letting the party lose touch with the people. Then, in 1966, he was elected Senator. It is still too early to evaluate Brooke's accomplishments as a Senator. The United States Senate is a body in which power increases with length of service. Brooke has been in office for a little over a year. Yet his influence, if not his power, is already being felt. When Brooke speaks, people listen. In the Senate, his voice and his vote carry weight because he is a boldly independent politician, often in conflict with his party leaders and in support of the Administration of a Democratic President. Brooke is a strong supporter of legislation to prohibit racial discrimination in housing, and other measures to integrate Negroes fully into American life. "This is the greatest country in the world for Negroes, and anyone who says that isn't true just doesn't know what he's talking about," Brooke says. "The United States offers Negroes the best opportunity, the most room for economic and social growth, of any place in the world today. But that doesn't mean everything is right. Not by any means. There's a great deal of room for improvement. Freedom for all Americans to vote, to be hired for any job, to attend any school, or live in any apartment-these freedoms have not yet been fully attained. America's future as the leader of world democracy depends largely on how totally-and how quickly-racial inequality is eliminated." . Brooke is one of a growing number of Democrats and Republicans who believe with President Johnson in the need to "build bridges" between East and West. "I favour increased trade with Russia, Poland and all the countries of Eastern Europe. I think cultural exchanges, tourism-all forms of contact-should be developed as much as pos-
Edward Brooke says: "The United States offers Negroes the best opportunity, the most room for economic and social growth, of any place in the world today. But that doesn't mean everything is right."
for themselves: investment in such, fundamental projects as dams, roads, communications and transportation systems, and assistance in developing the agricultural and industrial skills of the great masses of the population. "There are startling contrasts in American life that ought to be corrected, too. Take a half-hour walk through any of our major cities, and if you look at the sights as if for the firs~ time instead of accepting them as 'natural', you will, I think, be astonished at the juxtapo~ition of wealth and poverty, beauty and ugliness, progress and stagnation, achievement and failure." Though Brooke's own life was not marked by poverty-even during the Depression his father kept his job with the Federal Government-he has lived and worked among poor people and has a profound compassion for their needs. "What they need most of all is not welfare," he says, "but the opportunity and ability to help themselves." Brooke believes that the Federal Government must playa major role in helping the poor to help themselves. The government should seek to accomplish two things, "In the first place, we must seek out the flaws in the system which tend to perpetuate poverty, segregation and slums. We must tear down the barriers in our social, political and economic institutions that 'help keep Americans disadvantaged instead of helping them break free of their disadvantages. "In the second place, we must make a direct investment in human resources-above all in education-so that the poor can uplift themselves once the institutional barriers have been removed." Thirty years ago, Brooke observes, both these approaches to fighting poverty were begun by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, whom Brooke greatly admires, Unemployment compensation, social security for the elderly, minimum wages for workers-all these were enacted under the New Deal. In recent years, other institutional reforms have President Eisenhower acknowledges plaudits of delegates at Republican Party cOnJ'ention in 1956 where Brooke, left, delivered the invocation.
been made: racial barriers have been outlawed in many areas, a programme of medical insurance for elderly and low-income Americans was inaugurated, and massive amounts of Federal funds have been allocated to education. But, Brooke feels, these government programmes should be carried further, and new approaches should be tried where old methods have not been able to eliminate poverty entirely. Government-supported medical care should be extended; more workers should be covered by the minimum wage law; even more money should be spent on education, particularly on educating the children of poor families. Existing government programmes of urban renewal-tearing down slums and replacing them with decent housing-should be expanded. One new approach that Brooke says should be studied is the "reverse income tax." Since the beginning of the century there has been in America a progressive income tax; that is, everyone earning an income pays a percentage of his income to the government, and the higher one's income the higher the proportion that must be paid in taxes. Under a "reverse income tax," if a person's income were below a certain level the government would pay him) instead of the other way around. "Why not use our tax laws to help the poor to help themselves?" Brooke asks. Among Brooke's other interests are space exploration-he is on the Space Committee in the Senate-and foreign affairs. And he has one special goal that is very close to his heart: helping to forge the Republican Party into a progressive coalition of new ideas, of workers, intellectuals, and young people. "I think the party is beginning to move," he says. "It is starting to meet the challenge of change. And pretty soon, in domestic as well as foreign policy, I am confident that the Republicans will be able to come forward as a constructive alternati ve to the Democrats." END
THE CANDID CHAMPION OF TENNIS
WHENSHEFIRSTstarted playing in tennis tournaments, little Billie Jean Moffitt found her aggressive net-rushing style ineffectual against the "backcourters" ;-"the kids that are very steady, and play from the back court, and hit lobs all day" waiting for the opponent to make the first mistake. "They used to say, 'Ha, ha, 'all we need to do is get two or three back on you and you'll miss the fourth shot.' And I said, 'We'll see who's winning when we're sixteen.' " It didn't take that long. When she was fifteen she won her first big tournament with her own hard-hitting style, and since then she hasn't slackened a bit:' she still plays a man's game, darting towards the net and glowering over it like an angry bear, covering the court as a fly covers a sugar bowl, slamming serves and mixing ground shots. Her hard, gruelling game has led her to the top of women's amateur tennis, and following last summer's capture of the "Triple Crown" at Wimbledonher second consecutive women's singles title, her fourth women's doubles championship and the mixed doubles title-Mrs. Billie Jean Moffitt King is now comfortably lodged as the world's No.1 women's tennis player. The world's top-ranked women's player is twenty-four years old, stands five feet six inches tall and weighs 140 pounds ("That is, when things are going right-I love to eat"). Unlike most men tennis players, who wear a sweat band around one wrist, Billie Jean-as if to emphasize her femininity-wears a gold , bracelet which a friend gave her several years ago and which she hasn't taken off since. With short wavy brown hair, blue harlequin glasses, five million freckles and a Doris Day face, Mrs. King seems an ordinary attractive young lady. But she is probably amateur tennis's most colourful and controversial player today. "I have a tendency to say things that should be off the record," she admits. "I don't know if our men really want to be the best in the world," she once told a reporter asking about American tennis players. "There's no glory in this country!" And when a Chicago newspaperman recently, approached Billie Jean Reprinted by permission from The New Yark Times Magazine. ÂŠ 1967 by The New York Times Co.
"What's tennis?" she asked when she was ten. But at twenty-three, Billie Jean King had slammed her way to the top of women's amateur tennis.
with a request to interview her for a feature on the women's page, she blurted angrily: "That's the trouble with this sport. We've got to get it off the society page and onto the sports pages!" Recently, in the clubhouse of the elite Town Club in the Milwaukee suburb of Fox Point, where she was playing in the National Clay Courts championships, Billie Jean held forth in her usual outspoken way on one of her favourit~ subjects: what's wrong with American tennis. "Tennis is a very good sport," she began, "but you've got to get it away from the club atmosphere and into the public places, the parks, and stadiums. You've got to get tennis into places where everyone feels welcome. I don't think the average person feels welcome in a club atmosphere like this unless he's a member." It is talk such as this, of course, that causes many members of the staid and usually stuffy tennis world to shudder. Mrs. King is as outspoken and controversial on the court as off. "Billie Jean," says her husband Larry, "likes to play before fans. And she lets them know when she's angry." If the call of an official displeases her, she does p.ot hesitate to raise her voice to tell him. After one close line call in Fox Point, she snapped at the line judge: "How can you see from that position?" The line judge lifted his nose as if to indicate that he had been judging for thirty years and would do as he pleased,
but following game point, when he thought no one was looking, he shifted his chair so he could see straight down the line. In addition to haranguing officials, Billie Jean maintains a constant conversation with herself, particularly after a bad shot and always in a voice clearly audible in the grandstand. "Oh, Billie, think!" she'll shout, or "Boy, I'm telling you!" or "You've got the touch of an ox!" or her favourite expression: "Nuts!" She also has been known to mutter a few other less homey expressions under her breath, and in fact several years ago the United States Lawn Tennis Association apparently considered "sensuring her for her language on court. Billie Jean grumbles: "In basketball or football the players are cussing out there like troopers. But if you're a tennis player you've got to be jolly nice all the time." She admits, however, that lately her language has changed like her tennis game, to become less flamboyant and more mechanical. Billie Jean also dislikes the sepulchral atmosphere at most tennis tournaments and would like to see the fans shout and cheer . and even boo for a change. The conservatives within tennis-that is, practically everybody -raise their eyebrows at this suggestion, too. Billie Jean King has risen to the top of women's tennis by following a daily training regimen that would impress even Jim Ryun, the track star whose gruelling training regimen helped him run a mile in three minutes 51.3 seconds. When not travelling the tournament circuit, the Kings live in a one-bedroom apartment in Berkeley, California, where Larry attends the University of California. They selected their apartment because of the view across the street, which happens to be of the Berkeley Tennis Club. Billie Jean rises between 8 and 8-30 and by 10 she is on the court for two hours of drills aimed at perfecting her shots and improving her conditioning. She also may mix in some exercises or run short sprints, preferring speed work to long distance running. She practises at Berkeley seven days a week unless Rosemary Casals-who herself reached the semifinals at Wimbledon last year-is in town and then the two girls will split their practice time between Berkeley and Golden Gate Park near Rosie's home.
"A tennis match to me is almost like life. There are so many ups and downs. You just keep trying step by step and finally you win." Following lunch Billie Jean will play a match with one of the men players ("because men are tougher") and three or four sets of doubles with Rosie. Although Larry, a handsome blond law student, played for his high school tennis team andÂˇ does some coaching during the summer to help the family treasury, he rarely plays tennis with his wife, figuring she can benefit more by playing different players. He is a shrewd analyst of tennis style, but prefers to leave the actual coaching of his wife to Frank Brennan, who runs a tennis clinic in Upper Saddle River, New Jersey, and with whom the Kings stay between summer tournaments. At Wimbledon last year Larry talked a play-by-play account of Billie Jean's matches into a tape recorder, but admits he did it not for analysis but to keep himself from being nervous. "The previous year I ate sweets," he says. Billie Jean finishes practice around six or seven and then cooks dinner. She likes to read, particularly books on psychology, and eventually hopes to complete her college degree in that subject. Partly to aid her concentration, Larry taught his wife to play bridge and in her first duplicate bridge tournament they finished fourth. "Billie Jean also likes to dance," says her father, Bill Moffitt, "although she probably won't admit it." Moffitt, a fireman in Long Beach, California, likes to tell the story of the high school teacher who once told Billie Jean that, though a good tennis player, she could never master anything as complex as modern dance. Billie Jean accepted the challenge, joined the dance class and became so proficient that the teacher later urged her to concentrate on dancing instead of tennis. Billie Jean seems to have been endowed with a certain athletic talent at birth on November 22, 1943. Her father played basketball, baseball and ran track; her mother is an excellent swimmer. "Whenever the Fire Department had a picnic," says her father, "the men would plways want Billie Jean to play. She had natural ability in hitting the ball and fielding and throwing." When Billie Jean was ten she played with a group of girls mostly fourteen and fifteen years old. Her team won the Long Beach softball championship, but Billie Jean realized her potential in that sport was limited: "I told my mother, 'You know I love softball, but I'd still like to be in a sport where you could be considered a lady.' My parents, especially
Dad, suggested I play tennis, and I said, 'What's tennis?' " When she learned tennis was a game in which you could both run and hit a ball, Billie Jean decided to try it, but her parents, aware of the changeableness of children, made her pay for that first racket out of her earnings from odd jobs. Billie Jean placed a glass jar in the cupboard and when it finally contained $8, she became a tennis player. Tennis professional Clyde Walker gave free lessons once a week at each of five public parks in Long Beach, and Billie Jean soon would trail him from park to park. She played few games those first years, spending most of her time standing with a bucket of balls hitting them one at a time over the net. For a while she walked three-and-a-half miles to school each day to strengthen her legs. When she started entering tournaments, she invariably would lose in the first round to the backcourters, who would play steadily while Billie Jean charged all over the court. "I've always played a net game," she says. "It's part of my personality. It's me! One day Clyde asked me, 'What are you doing at the net?' I said, 'I don't know. This is fun, whatever I'm doing.' He said, 'You get back in the backcourt and learn those ground strokes first!' " Billie Jean's ground strokes, relatively speaking, remain the weak point of her game, but she feels that she now profits from the flexibility she learned at that early age. "I was very erratic when I started playing tournaments," she says. "But I learned an all-round game, and it paid off, even though I suffered. Now a lot of children don't realize this, or they realize it but can't stand to lose. I couldn't stand to lose. It used to just kill me! But I felt in the long run if I really wanted to achieve my goals I would have to lose." In 1958 Billie Jean won the Southern California championship in her age group, so a number of tennis fans from Long Beach raised money to send her and her mother (as chaperon) to the National Girl's 15 and Under Championships in Middletown, Ohio. Billie Jean lost in the quarter-finals, then watched sorrowfully as most of the other girls continued east to play in the 18-and-under tournament: "I nearly died, but we couldn't afford to go any further. When we arrived home in Long Beach my mother had only a few dollars in her purse." The following year Billie Jean played in the Eastern Grass Court Championships
Billie Jean King holds aloft the Wimbledon trophy, she annexed by winning the 1967 women's singles championship for the second successive year.
against 1959 Wimbledon champion Maria Bueno. She lost, but her showing impressed tennis coach Frank Brennan. "You're going to be good some day," he said, "but how come you use a nylon racket?" Billie Jean admitted she couldn't afford gut, so h~ sent her some and has continued as her coach and adviser to this day. In 1960 Billie Jean reached 'the finals 0 the National Girl's 18 and Under Championships, losing to Karen Hantze. The following year she travelled to Wimbledon, where she and Karen won the women's doubles title. Billie Jean was seventeen and Karen eighteen, the youngest pair to achieve such a victory. Billie Jean returned to Wimbledon in 1962 and startled the tennis world by defeating topseeded Margaret Smith in the opening round, the first time a first-ranked player had lost that early. She made the quarter-finals and with Karen repeated her doubles victory. In 1963, though college now left her little time for practice, she went to Wimbledon and, still unseeded, upset three seeded playersMaria Bueno, Ann Jones and Leslie Turnerto make the finals, where she lost to Margaret Smith. Margaret told her: "You know, Billie Jean, you've got all the shots, but I always wear you out. I knowÂˇyoudon't practise. You just don't play enough. I know you could win Wimbledon. Why don't you give it a go?" But Billie Jean wasn't yet ready to give it a go. "I was in love," she says of 1964. "I
was in another world." She had met Larry King one night in the library and soon they began to talk of marriage. Nevertheless, she made the semi-finals at Wimbledon that year on what amounted to a week's practice, then decided she either had to take tennis seriously or give it up. Billie Jean and Larry became engaged that autumn and two weeks later she left for Australia to train three months under Mervyn Rose. "The first three or four weeks I thought I was going to die," she remembers. "Every day I could hardly drag myself out of bed, and I wasjust learning what tennis was all about." The Australians had her running, doing exercises and participating in two-on-one drills where two players guard one side of the net with the single purpose of returning all shots to the remotest possible corners of the court. When she first began two-on-one drills she found herself unable to last more than five minutes; after three months she could retrieve shots for an entire hour. Learning a whole new game did not come easy for Billie Jean. In an attempt to improve her consistency, Rose shortened all her strokes, which immediately affected her timing. For instance, when she tossed the ball up for a serve it would be in the wrong place when her racket came around. "In one match I had thirty-five double faults," she remembers. "Merv said, 'Don't get discouraged if it takes three months, or even a year. I promise you that in six months you're going to notice the difference.' And September, 1965, is when I played Margaret Smith and realized that the work I had done had made all the difference in the world." BillieJean lost in the finals of the American championships at Forest Hills, New York, to Margaret, but said: "I realized I could beat her and that I could beat anyone in the world." The following spring she did beat Margaret in the South African championships,then won the singles title at Wimbledon in 1966 and again last year. She currently ranks as the number one woman tennis player in the world. It is Billie Jean's early-developed ability to play an all-round game that has brought her to this peak, plus the sheer speed of a welltuned body. "She's a hell of an athlete," says Arthur Ashe, the top-ranked American amateur. "That's the most important thing for a woman. Forget the strokes-if you can move on your feet, you can win." And her husband Larry adds, "She can run down balls that other girls won't even try for." BillieJean originally used a "Continental" grip which permitted her to hit both forehand
and backhand shots without shifting her hand on the racket, but now she has modified this so it is closer to the more standard "Eastern" grip. She also has changed rackets and now uses a new steel-frame racket which she claims is faster and whippier than the old wooden ones. Her strongest shot is her volley at the net. Her backhand (which she can hit with topspin, underspin or even sidespin) is stronger than her forehand. Her main serve is the standard slicer, although occasionally she will change pace by offering a flat serve, harder for the server to control. For the second serve she can utilize either the spin or the American twist, the latter a serve most other girls can't master because of the strain imposed on back and stomach muscles. It is in areas such as this that Billie Jean's abilities as an "athlete" give her the edge over the backcourters who merely know how to hit the ball back. Yet echoes of her erratic past occasionally return to haunt her. In the National Clay Court championships in Milwaukee in 1967 Billie Jean lost in straight sets in the semi-finals to Rosemary Casals, seemingly unable to control either her serves or returns. The suggestion that she might be unable to play well on clay continues to irk her. "Look at the record," she snaps, then ticks off on her wellmanicured fingers the high-ranked opponents she has defeated on clay. "Sure I lose on clay, but I also lose on grass, too!" The difference between tennis played on clay and on grass courts is subtle but simple: the ball bounces higher and slower on clay than on grass. Thus, the tennis player has more time to reach balls hit away from him, and aces come less frequently. A strong first serve is less important, and the effectiveness of the volley from the net is somewhat muted. "You have to put three balls away to win a point on clay compared to one on grass," says Larry King. Larry insists that his wife's speed still gives her the edge on clay as well as on grass, but a backcourter able to return balls and wait for a Billie Jean error will at least look better against her on clay-and sometimes may upset her. Significantly, however, three of the four tournaments Billie Jean will need to win to achieve the grand slam (Australia, Wimbledon and Forest Hills) are played on grass, and the fourth (France) is played on a bounder clay surface that she likes better than the clay in America. Does Billie Jean King deserve to be ranked with the great women tennis players of the past? Perry T. Jones, president of the Southern California Tennis Association, says: "Mrs.
Kingsbfaris the best of her day. That is, 1968. But if she should continue to have losses as she did in Milwaukee she'll have to go down. Now she can lose occasionally, but the great players didn't lose occasionally. So I can't put Mrs. King in the same class with somebody like Suzanne Lenglen, or Helen Wills Moody, who won Wimbledon eight times. She's going to have to stand the test of time before she can be ranked as one of the alltime greats. But if she continues to dominate women's tennis for the next three or four years, she will go down as one of the greats." Perry Jones suspects that Billie Jean might have beaten Doris Hart but at present may rank a shade behind Maureen Connolly, who won Wimbledon three times and achieved the grand slam in 1953. According to Jack Kramer: "I don't think she's reached the calibre of the real best of the Americans I've seen-such as Helen Wills Moody, or Alice Marble, or Maureen Connolly, or Pauline Betz-and I think that Margaret Smith and Maria Bueno at their top would have an edge. But I think she's about ready to jump into that group." Meanwhile, Billie Jean figures that she has another two or three years of highly competitive tennis before time comes to settle down and raise a family. At the present she has focused her eyes on one goal: winning the grand slam. In 1967 she did not play the Australian championships, being laid up with stomach trouble, and she lost the French championships. Seated in the clubhouse of the Town Club, she speculated on her future: "It's really hard to commit yourself to win the grand slam. I may never win it. Roy Emerson tried for thirteen years and never won it. But as long as you try your hardest, that's all you can do. I think it's good to set goals even if you never achieve them. At least try. I think a lot more people should do it, a lot more often in every field. Not just sports, school. It's no disgrace losing as long as you try, and give it all you have at the moment. Sometimes your spirit is good but the flesh refuses, because I've had days when I'm trying like crazy and r can't find the court. You've got days like this, in business or anything. But you always bounce back and you always keep going. "You know, one tennis match to me is almost like life. There are so many ups and downs. You can be down to where you think there's no way possible you can win a match. You just keep trying step by step and finally you win. The next time you're in a position when you're ahead and you lose. It's just like life. Life's like that." END
Answering questions from three journalists, Dr. S. Chandrasekhar, Minister of State for Health, Family Planning and Urban Development, .discussed in a recent broadcast from A.I.R., Delhi, the problems of population control in India. While acknowledging the difficulties, the Minister was optimistic that the national programme of familyplanning would achieve its objective of halving the birth rate by 1975.
Family Planning: >
Questions and Answers
Chanchal Sarkar, Director, Press Institute oflndia: Thefirst question that I want to ask you, Dr. Chandrasekhar, requires some background. India was thefirst country which adopted family planning as part of its national policy as far back as in 1951. There has, to my knowledge, been no shortage of money-in fact, in the first years the money wasn't spent. There has been no shortage of conviction, because all the parties and all the religious leaders and so forth are agreed. And the fact that we are going to have a very large population-the projections have been known for a long time, but as far as I know there has been no dent whatever in the birth rate in the last fifteen or sixteen years. Why is this so? Dr. Chandrasekhar: Well, Mr. Sarkar, it's true that we were among the first countries to start the family planning movement as an integral part of the health services of the country. But there are several reasons why we have not made much headway during the last fifteen years. The first is: the grant of money was there, but it was not sufficiently large compared to the grant we have received now in the Fourth Five Year Plan. It's almost 200 times what we got in the First Five Year Plan. Secondly, we realized that there was a problem but never realized the acute intensity of the problem. Then, the shortage of doctors-and it takes time to train them. And then we made perhaps a single big mistake; I am not casting aspersions on my predecessors, but we chose the wrong method and wasted ten long years. Chanchal Sarkar: This is the rhythm method? Dr. Chandrasekhar: Yes, this is the rhythm method and we found it didn't work at all. That's why, I think, we have not made much progress during the last fifteen years. Chanchal Sarkar: You said something about shortage of money. But I was under the impression that in the first few years the ministry wasn't able to spend even the money it had. They spent very little of it. Dr. Chandrasekhar: Not in the first few years-in the Second, Third Plans. Because then the plan was expanded and money was
given and certain States returned the mono ey because they couldn't get the personnel with correct qualifications. You know, suppose tomorrow I say I want a statistician, a medical man and a statistician combined, we just can't get such people. Shamlal, Editor, Times of India: Now, would you say, Dr. Chandrasekhar, that there has been a perceptible decline in public resistance to the idea of family planning. Does the ordinary villager, for example, realize today more fully than he did a few years ago that having a large family is not an unmitigated advantage? Dr. Chandrasekhar: I would certainly say yes. Because in 1947, for instance, when I had my first press conference in Madras, when I talked about it, the people were simply horrified at the idea and thought that I was promoting mass immorality. Today the attitude of the people has almost completely changed. There is a better climate of public opinion. In the last twenty years we have taken at least twenty to twenty-four attit~de surveys in many parts of the country-Calcutta, Baroda. Bombay, Madras, Chidambaram-of rural couples and urban couples, couples belonging to several economic strata, people belonging to all castes and all religions. And if I can summarize the attitudes in one sentence: of those who have been married and are living together conjugally and are parents of at least two or three children, sixty-six per cent of them have felt that they want family planning for either economic or health reasons. This, I think, is a tremendous development. Shamlal: But I thought there was a widespread feeling still among the rural people that they must have a male child. And even if they had, say, three female children in quick succession, they have a conception simply in the expectation that it willbe a male child. Are you breaking that sort of prejudice? Dr. Chandrasekhar: Yes, we are. Mr. Shamlal, you are quite right, because people who have two sons have already been motivated in favour of family planning. But people with three daugh-
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ters are not quite ready for family planning because they still want to have a son because of the Hindu mores. But here also we are having a breakthrough. I am going around and pleading that one daughter must be equated with two sons. This is a revolutionary concept. But now people are thinking in terms of equality. Our women's emancipation is going apace. And this also in another few years will be accepted. Chanchal Sarkar: But, Dr. Chandrasekhar, as you say, your survey showed that sixty-six per cent of married couples are willing to space out their children or to plan their families. Now the point is: when sixty-six per cent of people are willing to do so, is it possible for them to get the facilities easily? How much have you done in that respect? I will give you an example. A very simple method of family planning is the use of the condom. Now, my understanding is that India needs about five hundred million condoms. And there is only one company which has been producing condoms. I understand of this five hundred million, our total production is about thirty-two million or something of that order. And this is the simplest thing which is perhaps cheap and so forth. What about these and other facilities? Dr. Chandrasekhar: Mr. Sarkar, you are quite right. This is the crux of the problem. Once we create a motivation and demand on the part of parents who want to limit the size of the family, we have to take supplies and services to their doorstep, as it were. And; I must confess, in the past we have not been able to do it, because we didn't have any mass distribution mechanism for condoms or jellies or whatever you have. Now, we have just recently taken a decision on utilizing the private sector and all sorts of huge organizations. We are going to give them packets of these condoms in tea shops, pan shops-and the idea is to give them away. So that, from Kerala to Kashmir, everywhere a villager , goes and wants to have a cup of tea, he can find them-we call them "Nirod"-and they will be available. Also I might add here that we are negotiating with the United States Government for a large supply of condoms. Chanchal Sarkar: This is the new AID agreement? Dr. Chandrasekhar: Yes. They would give it from Japan or from Korea where condoms are just as good as anywhere else and cheaper. And, also, we are setting up Hindustan Latex in the public sector, a plant in Kerala with Japanese collaboration. Chanchal Sarkar: That doesn't go into operation until- the end of
1968? Dr. Chandrasekhar: No, it will start within a few months. Even then, of course, our total needs are so great. So with indigenous production plus imports, I think we will be able to meet the demands. And as you say, we must carry the services to the
people and not make them come in search of them. Because when the motivation is hot, we want to see that their demands are satisfied immediately. Kumar Dev, Chief of News Bureau, Commerce: Dr. Chandrasekhar, I think there are hurdles in implementing this programme. For instance, in regard to the loop you had a target of nearly forty lakhs in 1966 but hardly one fourth of this was fulfilled. Could you explain what are the hurdles that are coming in the way? Dr. Chandrasekhar: The first hurdle, Mr. Kumar Dev, is that health happens to be in the concurrent list. In fact, it is really a State subject. We set out the policy after elaborate discussions with the State governments and all our own experts, our own ministry officials. Then we give them the money, we give them the supplies. The actual day-to-day administrative implementation of the programme of family planning is left by and large to the State governments. Therefore, there is an uneven performance. I don't like to be invidious, but I must be honest. For instance, Maharashtra, Punjab, Madras, Kerala have done very well. But then Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan have not done so well. This may be due to a variety of reasons. Sometimes the minister for health is a very dedicated and energetic and dynamic man; sometimes the health secretary is a go-getter; sometimes they just follow the level of efficiency that a government has. So we just go on, prodding them, pushing them and so the level of performance varies from State to State. Kumar Dev: Don't you think the solution to this problem lies in centralizing the whole programme? Of course, this involves amendment of the Constitution because family planning is in the concurrent list. Dr. Chandrasekhat: That's right. In fact, I would like to ple~d that family planning, because it is a matter of national crisis, must be made a Central subject. Then we can go ahead with all the 'dynamism that's available in the Central ministry and reach all parts of the country on the same level and implement it directly. Now, some people complain to me that a woman or a man in a village walks two or three miles and comes to the clinic and the worker there simply says, "Oh, I forgot the keys" or "Come tomorrow." You know, chalta hai philosophy. This is a great tragedy, but we can't be constantly checking this because we are too far away from the scene of action. I am talking particularly of the rural areas. Then, there are other difficulties. For instance you mentioned the IUCD. The IUCD is a good thing, it is cheap: and the most important thing about it is, it is a reversible thing. If a woman wants a baby she can take it out. But all our tests show that only eighty per cent are effective. That means that out of a hundred women who have received IUCD, in ten per cent there is extra bleeding, intra-menstrual spotting, backache, and they may have it taken out. In another ten per cent, there is involuntary expulsion for a variety of reasons.
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Vasectomy may prove to be most effective for birth control in rural areas. The Government of India also proposes to experiment with distribution of oral contraceptives in cities under medical supervision.
And therefore eighty per cent we roughly think of as the retention rate. But then, there is one little element of corruption even here, I am told. Sometimes women have it inserted in one place and go to another place and take it out. Unfortunately, this may be one case in a million; we don't know. But the feeling is that this is being done. So, we don't know what is the actual, final retention rate which is what matters to us in calculating the fertility of the country. Therefore, human frailties of this nature do contribute to the problem. Chanchal Sarkar: What you are really saying then is that although the Centre is meeting ninety per cent of the money, your ministry is really at the mercy of the State go vernmen ts for performance. And the State governments aren't all of them, to put it mildly, equally dedicated to this idea. Dr. Chandrasekhar: Just about, Mr. Sarkar. I think they are all trying in their own way. But it depends upon locally what they consider to be very important. There are several things to be taken into consideration-the level of education, the level of motivation, the pace of communications, the availability of supplies, the availability of doctors. Sbamlal: But what kind of watch do you keep on the performances of States? Suppose there is a grave lapse that comes to your notice. Do you rush there? Dr. Chandrasekhar: We immediately rush there and talk to our opposite number, the State Health Minister, to see what's the bottleneck. But we can't suggest that they change this man, or put in that man. Chanchal Sarkar: May I ask a supplementary to what Kumar Dev and Shamlal have asked, and that is about the figures of sterilization. Dr. Chandrasekhar: We can't give any rate of sterilization because it varies from factory to factory, town to town, city to city, stateto state. But, generally, I will be very happy ifthere are about two million sterilizations a year. But, actually it has taken almost ten years to reach that number. I am one of those who believe very strongly that we must give a very strong incentive for the populations in slum areas, jhuggi dwellers, people who live on pavements, so that they, can be attracted towards sterilization. Chanchal Sarkar: In a way you are already doing it. Dr. Chandrasekhar: We are doing it, but not enough. If we offer a higher incentive and motivate them to the right extent, then they will come to us and we will give it to them. How effective sterilization can be, the way to calculate it is this: Suppose a man has had a vasectomy-if the operation is performed correctly and carefully, he will not have any children.
Now we will find out what is his income group, or what is his socio-economic group and what is the normal number of children people in that group have. Suppose a man inthat group normally has six children, and this man has the vasectomy after the second child. So, what it implies is that this one operation has prevented the possibility offour more births. Now, if you have two million, you multiply and see how many births-which under normal circumstances would have occurred-have been prevented by this policy of sterilization. Chanchal Sarkar: This two million which we haven't anywhere near reached yet-even if we do reach two million a year, when do you think this will have an effect on the birth rate? Dr. Chandrasekhar: Ifwe have two million operations a year, we reach the effect in about ten years without any doubt-to half the birth rate, from forty-one to twenty. Japan did that between 1947 and 1957 through about three million abortions a year. Chanchal Sarkar: Yes, but Japan had a birth rate of thirty-four to start with, and it's a much more modern country, urbanized country. Dr. Chandrasekhar: True, it is a modern country, westernized country, with high literacy and a number of health centres. In spite of our difficulties in this matter-mass communications-I am still very optimistic that if the press, the radio and the general publicists co-operate with us, we can reach the 560,000 villages. Let me explain how I look at it. We have a population of 515 million, which means a little over a hundred million couples. Out of this we calculated that ten million couples are beyond their productive age. So we have ninety million couples who are in their productive age and are distributed over seventeen states. Among these ninety million couples, fifty per cent of them already have three or more children. So, if you can reach these people in the rural areas and give them vasectomy, then you have really stopped them from contributing anything more to the population. . The people with one child, two children can have conventional contraceptives-condoms, IUCD, etc. Also, I may add here, we are going to have an experiment of distributing oral contraceptives to women in urban areas under medical supervision. Two million dollars' worth of these oral contraceptives we are expecting as a gift from the United States Government. Kumar Dev: In this connection, Dr. Chandrasekhar, I would like to have your views on the Maharashtra Government's proposal that there should be compulsory sterilization in the case of persons having more than three children. Now, have you had the legal implications of this examined? Is it enforceable? Dr. Chandrasekhar: Mr. Kumar Dev, I am glad that you have asked this question. There is a lot of misunderstanding and the people have attacked me for doing this as if we have already done it. The truth of the matter is we didn't start this at the Centre. The Maharashtra Cabinet debated it at length and then
passed certain resolutions that they would like to compulsorily sterilize parents, father or mother, after their third child. And this has come to us for our opinion. We naturally referred it to the Ministry of Law and we have a confidential report. But if I may say so, there is nothing in the Constitution to prevent it. Moreover, forty-two years ago, Justice Holmes of the U.S. Supreme Court said, "The principle that sustains compulsory vaccination in the interests of public health is strong enough and a big enough umbrella to sustain the principle of cutting the Fallopian tubes in the interests of public welfare." So, here is an opinion. Sterilization is not denying you the right to marry; it is not denying you the right to have progeny-but not an unlimited number; it is not denying you the right to have conjugal union. It simply denies you the right to add numbers to the population where your responsibility is not sufficient to the demands of your children. So this is the legal opinion. But it may be unpopular. There will be difficulties of executing it. Kumar Dev: I can see it may be in the public interest and it's for the state to determine what's in the public interest. But it comes into conflict with what a couple may think is in their interest. Dr. Chandrasekhar: Well, sir, I am not saying yes or no. What lam saying is that a legal case can be made. For the state also is interested in what is in the interest oLthe larger welfare of the community and the country at large. I think this is very important.
try where so many are illiterate, there is a chance of an enormous amount of confusion in the public mind as to which is really the method to go infor? Dr. Chandrasekhar: Mr. Sarkar, the idea behind this cafeteria approach is that we are not dogmatic, that we're pragmatic. We . have a scientific attitude of mind, that anything which is scientific, which is safe, efficient, fool-proof, approved by the medical profession and acceptable to the cultural mores of a country must be available. This is the theory. But, then, for mass application, we have cbosen two, vasectomy and tubectomy for men and women-permanent conception controls, surgical methods. And for those with one or two children, we are giving the IUCD. And then we also want to make available the condom, because it is the most basic, simple method. Also, here I want to add that the subject is so elastic, things are constantly being worked out and breakthroughs are expected. Science is advancing very fast on the subject of family planning. Some people misunderstood me when I mentioned that there even is a possibility of an injection which may be coming into the field in a year or so.
Kumar Dev: Talking about mass application, I think the main problem is the shortage of personnel, doctors and so on. You may have all the clinicalfacilities, but if there are not enough people to man them, your programme will not make any progress. There is a general reluctance on the part of doctors to go to the rural areas. Now, have you thought of some ways of inducing the doctors to go Shamlal: What is your ministry's view regarding legalization of to the rural areas? abortion? Because I think this was the chief means which enabled Dr. Chandrasekhar: Mr. Kumar Dev, we have just done this. Japan to halve the birth rate in a decade. Some time ago we had a meeting of all the deans and principals Dr. Chandrasekhar: Shamlalji, we have considered this. Some of the ninety-one medical colleges in the country, including memyears ago the matter was reviewed very carefully by the ministry. bers of the Indian Medical Council, the Indian Medical AssociaOur Indian Penal Code, as far as this is concerned, is about a tion and all the other relevant bodies. We passed a resolution-'hundred years old and we have not touched it. Today the exist- and it's going to be implemented-that anybody who is an ing Indian Penal Code provisions permit therapeutic abortions. ' MBBS student must do two things for his internship: He must It simply says that if any dQctor, gynaecologist, obstetrician, spend six months in a rural area, and he must do that internship physician in good faith finds that the completion of a woman's -apart from internship in other subjects-in family planning. pregnancy will be detrimental to her health and may even result Once the vice chancellors, syndicates and academic councils in her death, he can perform an abortion with the consent of the approve of this, for the first time in a hundred years we will have woman concerned-and of course, her husband too. these people go to the rural areas and do family planning and then only can they be enrolled as full-fledged doctors. Chanchal Sarkar: May I ask you a question, Dr. Chandrasekhar. If I am not wrong, you favour what is called the cafeteria approach. Chanchal Sarkar: May I ask you to confirm a very melancholy In other words, people can take whatever method of choosing to fact, right or wrong, that whatever we do, even ifwe do bring down limit their family that they want. If you are going to allow this the birth rate drastically, until 1981 our population will continue to cafeteria approach, you need a vast panoply of equipment. For in- grow by about 3.1 per cent. Is that right? stance, ifit is the loop, you need lady doctors; if it is sterilization, Dr. Chandrasekhar: Yes, roughly about. But by 1971, I want the you need hospitals. Now, have you worked out the costs implica- birth rate to come down from forty to thirty. And then by 1975, tion of having for India this cafeteria approach? And, secondly, I think, we should be able to cut down the birth rate not to don't you think that if too many methods are advocated in a coun- . twenty-five but to twenty. That means by fifty per cent. I am very optimistic. At the same time it doesn't mean that we want to do nothing about the death rate. We want to control the death rate alsobring down the infant mortality rate, the maternity mortality rate and then the overall mortality rate. I think, we will succeed, Mr. Sarkar. I am very optimistic of it. END
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A typical U.S. manufacturing firm employs an elaborate checking system to minimize the margin for error and to ensure the quality of its products.
BLACK AND DECKER looks like any typical manufacturing complex in a dozen American suburbs. The low-slung building covering thirteen acres of a one-time rural farm near Baltimore, Maryland, bears few hints of its fifty-seven-year history. Once the dream of two young engineers with a tiny machine shop, today the plant is a modern industrial operation with smooth, efficient assembly lines operating at remarkable speeds. As the world's largest manufacturer of portable power tools, it employs 9,000 people and turns out more than 300 products. These products
and the problems encountered during their production are completely different. Black and Decker is part and parcel of the marvel of twentieth-century industry, whose modern industrial system turns to power machinery for great quantities of products quickly and cheaply. Concurrent with this growth in production and improvement in economic organization is a steady advance in industrial and scientific skills to maintain a high level of product quality. Today, fighting to produce truly troubJefree products is one of the major ways an continued
Gear case covers for hand drills. be/ow. undergo random sampling. Left. assuring accuracy of gauges. which themselves wear out over period of time. this machine tests measurements to .0001 of an inch.
Black and Decker's quality control permits it to offer a lifetime guarantee on every single product.
organization has to build its sales volume. Product quality has become such a sensitive hinge point for successful business that there has been a phenomenal increase in the number of personnel concerned with maintaining it. Once the interest of a few technical men, quality control is now the primary concern of a growing number of managers, engineers and statisticians. Marketing forecasts predict that customer demands for higher and higher quality will intensify rather than diminish. Consumers are more and more critical of the performance of automobiles and home appliances, and in their judgment of the audio and visual achievements of radio and television sets. In the American economy the consumer, by exercisinghis free choice to buy what satisfies him, is the final judge of what will or will not be produced. Manufacturers race each other to supply the best of what he wants, at the lowest price. Managers find they cannot afford to think their responsibility for the product is fulfilled when it is "just as good" as competing items. This economic behaviour makes it possible to define quality in industrial products as the degree to which a product meets the requirements of the customer. Good communication between customer and producer is necessary if a complete study of customer requirements is to be made and not only to determine his preference in size, shape and colour. The environment in which the product is used must be determined. Should it be waterproof, dustproof or anti-vibrational? Will it have to operate in sub-zero temperatures or excessive heat? For real customer satisfaction "reliability," or good performance over a predictable period of time, is important. Hundreds of firms are now using the written guarantee to show their faith in a product's reliability, such as the one at Black and Decker, whose power tools are manufactured in eleven American and foreign plants. Black and Decker's total control over the quality of their products permits them to offer a life-time guarantee on every drill and saw, grinder and sander that leaves the factory. They promise, in writing, to correct any defect caused by faulty material or poor workmanship. This kind of confidence can only be accomplished through a deep, well-planned, organi-
zation-wide quality control programme. Control is based strictly on inspection in some ninety-eight per cent of American companies.' But where once this only meant screening the final product before it left the factory, more and more programmes are spreading the quality control function ove.r the whole manufacturing process. A watchful eye is kept on the product from raw material to finished item. Four areas are fundamental to building a programme that can put such quality control to work. First there is new design control, which involves careful evaluation of plans for new products, or modifications of old ones, while these plans are on the drawing board. Staffs of qualified engineers consult with scientists and researchers, and attempt to predict weak areas before production begins. At Black and Decker, quality controllers check back to the drawing board after the first batch of new parts comes off a production line. The completed part is carefully matched to the plan, and necessary changes are made before the full production signal is given. When production is set in motion, there is strict control of incoming raw materials and purchased components. Procurement officers select their source of materials carefully and constantly inspect samples of it to maintain quality. Producers know that outstanding workmanship won't produce a good finished product if raw materials are of poor quality. Then there is control of the parts that come in batches from machines and assembly lines. Are workers meeting company standards? Are machines functioning correctly? And finally, there is scientific analysis of the problems which occurred and were detected during the manufacturing process. This in essence is total quality control, or what inspectors call "womb to tomb" and "cradle to grave" control. It deals with the design of a product on through the industrial cycle and places quality products in the hands of customers. One of the biggest headaches of quality control directors is the modern trouble known in America as "Murphy." Murphy is the human factor on the production line, and accounts for all the errors employees make, such as welding valves upside down. Many quality controllers feel the best way to avoid "Murphy's mistakes" is to design elementary tools and devices such as valves that nobody,
not even Murphy, can screw upside down. Other industries are overcoming Murphytype defects through worker motivation programmes. These programmes are based on the knowledge that each worker must satisfy certain psychological needs if he is to take a personal pride in his job. He needs to feel economically secure by knowing he can rely on an adequate, stable salary. He needs recognition and responsibility to satisfy his drive for status. And he works better in an environment which induces self-respect. Techniques to satisfy these needs include displays of worker progress on bulletin boards and praise in company newspapers for employees who make extra efforts or have outstanding accomplishments. At Black and Decker monotony was a major factor in poor worker efforts until it was relieved with cheerfully tinted machinery, which serves two purposes by also being colour coded. Pink machines are grinders, gear cutting machines are lavender and light green ones are automatic screw machines. Many programmes are putting responsibility for quality squarely on the worker's shoulder, supplying him with a sense of ~elfrespect by making him his own critic. Thus Black and Decker workers are as familiar with quality checking machinery and instruments as they are with their production machinery. Machine operators turning out gears, for example, wheel a mobile gauge to their work station and test each batch for accurate spacing and sizing of teeth before sending them on. They learn to take pride in their workmanship, and the emphasis changes from detecting errors to preventing them. While the ideal programme prevents flaws, being able to detect flaws after they occur still plays an important role in quality control programmes. Four techniques generally will catch defective parts-sampling, screening, process patrol, and statistical control. Sampling is designed to detect flaws during the various phases of production, enabling a plant to correct mistakes when they occur and before they are camouflaged by the next manufacturing step. For instance, when gear casings are ready for assembly into the halfinch hand drill at Black and Decker, an inspector first selects a sample from each bin and takes it to his workshop. There he carefully tests the holes in every sample casing with a go-no-go plug gauge specially designed
technique called process inspection when they want to know the cause of defective work. Landon Matthew, quality assurance director for Black and Decker, often surveys an area himself, or sends a staff member to check on -l equipment, observe methods of operation and if necessary, follow pieces of the product from raw material to finished article. This method, too, has its disadvantages. Inspectors cannot reasonably be stationed at all machines at all times, and too often it is difficult to detect or avoid variations in certain operations. Faced with these weaknesses in their programmes, industries began to use mathematical probabilities to predict trouble spots, together with a statistical system of charts capable of pointing out a process that is causing variations. After a period of time thedata from these charts give the inspector a clear over-all picture of the manufacturing operations. It may point to a lack of proper uniformity to fit the hole at one ~nd, but too large to pass per cent inspection. Screening is usually pre- in the production material or it may show that at the other. By this simple method, producers ferred when the final product is inspected a more regular check up on machinery is are able to maintain a standard size for fit- before shipment, as when all power tools are necessary. Without the chart, these causes tings on all parts. If the sample reveals too thoroughly tested for performance and ap- could go undetected for a long time. Such many defective pieces, the inspector knows pearance at Black and Decker before pack- scientific quality control is applied far enough that the lot, in all probability, has the same aging. Some manufacturers feel that the only in advance to prevent many types of defective percentage of defects. It must be rejected. way to catch all mistakes is to inspect each production, and is a valuable addition to the inspection of a finished item. Under such lot-by-lot inspection the size of piece as it is being produced. Both producers and consumers reap advanBut experience has shown that 100per cent a lot varies upward from 300 articles. It is most easily moved and controlled if kept inspection does not always guarantee a perfect tages from a quality control programme. In reasonably small. A lot usually consists of product. The monotony of screening can most cases it will lower the cost of scrapped articles produced from the same batch of raw create fatigue and lower attention. Black and and reworked material for the manufacturer. materials, and processed from the same pro- Decker recognizes the danger of low attention It may also lead to a decrease in the direct cost duction line or machine, the same mould or levels, even at final inspection, by relieving the of manufacture itself. Furthermore the conpattern and handled by the same personnel. monotony of repetition. An inspector finds trol features enable the manufacturer to aim At Black and Decker if a lot is approved, himself alternating trays of tools, so that he is consciously at a definite quality standard and the parts are moved along the assembly line determining the current pulled by a power to determine how much chance there is of for the next manufacturing step, after which drill on one assignment and inspecting the varying from this standard. Ultimately a quality control programme may not only reduce another sample inspection may be made. If a appearance of a grinder on the next. lot is rejected, it is the foreman's responsibility Screening is expensive and time-consuming costs but it will increase sales as the consumer tocorrect the delinquent operator, operation or and interferes with the flow of work. And comes to trust a product's good performance. On the other hand, consumers are relieved equipment. Thus, lot-by-lot inspection arrests there are many types of destructive testing the flow of bad products as soon as the defects where 100 per cent inspection would result in of excessive product breakdowns and failures, occur and permits supervisors to make cor- 100 per cent destruction of the product, as eliminating the irritation and extra costs that rections in the process before more materials during the sharpness tests for razor blades accompany a faulty product. Today the and time are lost. . which dull the edges, tensile strength testing American consumer can, and does demand When a manufacturer learns it is necessary of wire which snaps the wire, and chip tests of superior quality products, and at prices he is to reject a finished lot of items, he can only enamel which crack the enamel. Screening willing to pay. He no longer cares to be bomdetermine which action will be least costly. throughout the manufacturing process is barded with advertising media concerning He may decide to salvage the lot, sell the imperative, however, when it comes to vital claims of outstanding performance and reliaitems as "seconds" at a reduced price, or parts on which an entire assembly depends, as bility. He wants products whose performance in aircraft, spacecraft and defence compo- is as good as expected, and total quality conperhaps scrap the lot entirely. When each item is inspected and defectives nents, or where human health is a factor. trol provides the means for management to are eliminated, the process is screening, or 100 Programmers sometimes turn to another meet these demands. END
INCOLD B 00 VIEWED INCOLO B 00 Writer Truman Capote, whose portrait appears above, spent five years unravelling all the threads in a real-life murder in Kansas, later wove them into his book IN COLD BLOOD. The novel became a best-seller, and the film version of it, reJeased last December, has been widely acclaimed in the U.S. ON THE MORNING of November 16, 1959, a novelist of precocious though slightly fading reputation was performing his daily ritual of leafing through The New York Times. Somewhere in the middle of that vast newspaper he came upon an item which fixed his attention. The novelist's name was Truman Capote and the item, a news story carrying the headline WEALTHY FARMER, THREE OF FAMILY SLAIN, described the brutal murder of a highly respected family in the small and obscure Midwestern town of Holcomb, Kansas. This was not the first time a writer had taken inspiration from a newspaper story; Dostoievski's Crime and Punishment is said to have derived from just such a source and so, too, is the Anglo-Polish writer Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent. Yet both Dostoievski and Conrad used newspaper stories as primers for the imagination, seeds which, planted in their fertile minds, bloomed into imaginative works of the
highest order. Unlike these men, Truman Capote, shortly after reading about the Kansas murders, left for Holcomb, the scene of the crime, with the intention of doing a nonfictional treatment of it in major dimension. After no less than six years of painstaking research, interviewing and writing, Capote emerged from Kansas with a book entitled In Cold Blood. Since its publication roughly two years ago, the book has been both lauded in the most elevated language and attacked in the firmest possible tones. It has been analysed and psycho-analysed, investigated and explicated, mauled and mulled over to the extent that it is among the most talked and written about books to have come out of the United States in the last decade. For months after its appearance it remained atop the nation's best-seller lists. Its total sales, including the paperback edition, will unquestionably number in the millions of copies. A film version of the story, released in the U.S. last December, has revived interest in the book and has been acclaimed as one of the best movies of 1967. "In the film version," according to a recent Time magazine review, "the power and fascination of the story are undiminished. The non-fiction novel has become anything but a non-cinematic movie." The review also commended director Richard Brooks's grimly detailed study of the wintry Kansas plains, his scrupulous attention to authenticity, and his handling of
unknown actors. "It is their performances," Time concluded, "that lift the film from documentary competence to near brilliance." It is said that the book's commercial success will eventually earn its author upwards of $2 million. It has also made Truman Capote a figure of considerable literary controversy and thrust him-"catapulted"might be a more accurate word -into the front rank of contemporary American writing. So intense has been the emotional stir caused by In Cold Blood, so vehemently either pro or con have been the reactionsto it on the part of critics and reviewers, that the book has seemed to elude any sort of balanced assessment. What is needed is a view of In Cold Blood, so to speak, "in cold blood": a somewhat more dispassionate evaluation of the book on its own merits as well as in the light of the claims made for it by its author and, finally, an enquiry into why this particular book seems (as it unarguably does) to leave no one who reads it unmoved. With two years elapsed since the book's publication, and the cases for both the prosecution and the defence already in, perhaps now at last such an evaluation is possible. Since In Cold Blood is essentially a story about a crime"the best documentary account of an American crime ever written," the American critic F.W. Dupee has called it-let us begin by considering first the scene of the crime, then the victims, and last the murderers. It is not easy to find a territory elsewhere in the world that quite compares with western Kansas, where the murders took place. In its isolation perhaps the Soviet Urals come close. But far from being mountainous like the Urals, western Kansas is flatland country, straightaway and levelgrounded almost to the point of monotony. "The plains of western Kansas are even lonelier than the sea," is the way Conrad Knickerbocker, a writer who lived for many years in Kansas, describes it. "Men, farmhouses and windmills become specks against the vast sky. At night, the wind seems to have come from hundreds of miles distant. Diesel-engine horns echo immensity. During the day, one drives flat out through shimmering mirages. Highways all roll straight to the point of infinity on a far horizon. Tyres click; tumbleweed rustles; Coca-Cola signs endlessly creak." The people who inhabit this austere section of the country are themselves often marked by a certain austerity of character, possibly a hang-over from the American frontier spirit of an earlier day. For the most part farmers, their politics as well as their economics tend to be conservative; religion plays a prominent part in their lives; and though temperate, kindly, and by no means without charity, perhaps no virtue is accorded higher esteem among them than self-sufficiency. The victims, the Herbert Clutter family of Holcomb, were not merely representative but more on the order of an idealization of the western Kansas type. Mr. Clutter was a successful farmer, who had even achieved a modest national prominence by serving as an agricultural adviser during the years of President Eisenhower's Administration.
An active churchman, he was exceedingly kind and just to the men who worked his farm, though among his hired hands he tolerated no drinking. He was a figure of benevolent authority to his family, and lived by a tightly organized routine-paying for every item he purchased, for instance, by cheque. The two Clutter children were in their way also exemplary. Kenyon, the fifteen-year-old son, was shy, looked like his father, and was good at making things with his hands in the family's basement workshop. The daughter Nancy, sixteen, was ideal in every regard: beautiful and outgoing and popular at school; she loved animals and kept an old horse, well past its prime, named Babe. Because Mrs. Clutter suffered fits of deep depression from time to time, what in the nineteenth century used to be called "melancholia," Nancy in effect became the woman of the household, arranging and preparing meals and taking upon herself the other housewifely duties around the prosperous Clutter home. The house itself, a white, two-storey affair set back on an ample lawn of groomed Bermuda grass, seemed an impregnable fortress of affluent domesticity. The situations of the two men who drove up to this house on the night of November 14, 1959, were far removed indeed from that of the Clutters. Dick Hickock (twentyeight) and Perry Smith (thirty-one) had been former cellmates in the Kansas State Penitentiary. Hickock, a petty thief of high intelligence, had had his head severely battered in a car accident. The effect of the accident was to give his face an uneven look-one side seemed unsymmetrical to the other, as if they had been badly stitched together-and caused him to suffer what a psychiatrist was later to call "severe character disorder." Perry Smith had also had a highway accident; a motorcycle crack-up had broken his legs in five different places, stunting their growth and giving him a dwarfish look-a full-grown, fully-developed torso on short legs. While Hickock's family life was for all intents and purposes rather normal, Smith's life had been hard from the very beginning. His vagabond father deserted his alcoholic mother, and at an early age he had been put into an orphanage where he was evidently very badly treated. His record of arrests began when he was only eight years old. Yet for all the coarseness of his life, Perry Smith had artistic inclinations; and one of his recurrent dreams, as he later told Capote. was of a giant yellow bird, a parrot-like animal, that would swoop down to earth, destroy his persecutors, and lift him aloft to paradise. The two men planned to rob the Clutters. Hickock had masterminded the job, after having been told by a cellmate at the Kansas State Penitentiary, who had once worked on the Clutter farm, that Mr. Clutter kept thousands of dollars in a safe in the house. They had driven to Holcomb from another Kansas town four hundred miles away and after the robbery they intended to drive the four hundred miles back. But Smith -and Hickock had more in mind than simple robbery. There were to be no evidence and no continued
"Agonizing, terrible, possessed," the book is "proof that th~Âˇtimes, so surfeited with disasters, are still capable of tragedy."
witnesses left behind. These two men had come to murder. Once inside the Clutter house,. Smith and Hickock rounded up the Clutter family and segregated them into different rooms: Mr. Clutter and his son gagged and bound in the basement; Mrs. Clutter and Nancy in their respective rooms upstairs. One by one, under Dick Hickock's direction, Perry Smith murdered all four members of the family. They were to find that the report of Mr. Clutter's safe was utterly false. There was no safe and there was very little money around the house; since Mr. Clutter paid for everything by cheque there was no need for keeping large amounts of cash. So for their crime Hickock and Smith earned somewhere under $50. Afterwards, with additional money Hickock earned by cashing bad checks, the two men travelled by car to Miami, Florida; then'to Mexico; and then back to the United States, where, seven weeks after their massacre of the Clutter family, they were arrested in Las Vegas, Nevada. Trial and conviction and sentence to death followed in April 1960. After a series of appeals and various legalistic postponements lasting five years in all, they were hanged in a chilly warehouse in the corner of the yard of the Kansas State Penitentiary on a rainy night in April of 1965. That, in pretty much bare-bones fashion, is the substance of In Cold Blood. But it does not-it cannot~onvey anything of the expertise with which Truman Capote handles his chronicle of the Clutter murders. As the reviewer in The New York Times Book Review noted at the time of In Cold Blood's appearance: "Truman Capote went to Kansas City, to Garden City and Holcomb, Kansas, the hamlet where the murders took place. With the obsessiveness of a man demonstrating a profound new hypothesis, he spent more than five years unravelling and following to its very end every thread in the killing of Herbert W. Clutter and his family. In Cold Blood, the resulting chronicle, is a masterpiece-agonizing, terrible, possessed, proof that the times, so surfeited with disasters, are still capable of tragedy." Capote achieves these effects through the lucidity of his writing and the brilliance with which he has organized his materials. Using a technique more commonly associated with the cinema, he enhances his artful narrative by a series of judicious cuts. The reader begins In Cold Blood, for example, with the western Kansas mise-en-scene and the Clutter household, cuts to Hickock and Smith miles away -and beginning to set out on their ghastly assignation, cuts back to the Clutters, back again to Hickock and Smith, and so on-in a manner so expertly done as at once to lend drama and add reality to the account of the crime. This same technique is used in the description of the chase and ultimate apprehension of the murderers. The regard for detail is scrupulous; its use ubiquitous. When Hickock and Smith at one point stop for gas, we learn the exact amount of their purchase; when someone else stops
for a meal, we are given the precise mem,!,right down to the cups of coffee drunk. If the organization of In Cold Blood may be said to be cinemati~, one might say of Capote's prose that it functions rather like a camera with an extraordinarily sensitive lens. While highly selective in what it chooses to focus uponthe author has since told an interviewer that his notes were extensive enough to fill up a motel room-it is also largely impersonal, unmannered and neutral. The people concerned with what happened at Holcomb-victims, victimizers and bystanders-are allowed to speak in their own voices for pages at a stretch without interruption. Where useful, letters and documents are reproduced. Although he interviewed the two killers extensivelybecomin$ especially close to them during the five years in which the machinery of judicial appeal was grinding awayas well as everyone else in any way connected with the dread event, Capote never appears in the narrative. To this extent, the work combines both cinematic and fictional techniques. Nothing, in short, is allowed to detract from the force of the narrative-not even Capote himself. Behind the careful technique of In Cold Blood, American readers were to learn shortly after the book's publication, lay a rather elaborate structure of ideas about the kind of writing involved in its making. Capote, clearly, had not entered thoughtlessly into the six-year project that was to end in his remarkable book. "It seems to me," he told an interviewer around this time, "that most contemporary novelists, especially the Americans and the French, are too subjective, mesmerized by private demons; they're enraptured by their navels, and confined by a view that ends with their own toes. If! were naming names, I'd name myself among others. At any rate, I did at one time feel an artistic need to escape my selfcreated world. I wanted to exchange it, creatively speaking, for the everyday objective world we all inhabit. Not that I'd never written non-fiction before-I kept journals and had published a small truthful book of travel impressions: Local Colour."
Once the decision to attempt a long non-fictional work had been made, Capote trained for the task, much in the manner of a boxer preparing for a championship fight. He taught himself, for example, to commit long stretches of conversation to memory, succeeding to the point where, he maintains, he could achieve ninety-five per cent accuracy. But why not use a tape recorder? Why not take notes? Why go to all this trouble? "I felt it was essential," Capote says. "Even note-taking artificializes the atmosphere of an interview or a scene-in-progress; it interferes with the communication between author and subject-the latter is usually selfconscious, or an untrusting wariness is induced. Certainly a tape recorder does so." All this meticulous care in regard to method is quite
spectacular in itself, but Capote had something still more spectacular to announce. To wit, in writing In Cold Blood he claimed to have created nothing less than a new art form -a form which he chose to call the "non-fiction novel." Since the notion of the non-fiction novel has proved one of the points of critical controversy surrounding Capote's book, let us allow Truman Capote to speak to the point at some length in his own voice: "The motivating factor [1 am quoting here from an interview] in my choice of material-that is, choosing to write a true account of an actual murder case-was altogether literary. The decision was based on a theory I've harboured since 1 first began to write professionally, which is well over twenty years ago. It seemed to me that journalism, reportage, could be forced to yield a serious new art form: the 'non-fiction ~ovel,' as 1 thought of it. Several admirable reporters have shown the possibilities of narrative reportage .... Still, on the whole, journalism is the most underestimated, the least explored, of literary mediums. "[This is so] because few first-class creative writers have ever bothered with journalism, except as a sideline, 'hackwork,' something to be done when the creative spirit is lacking, or asa means of making money quickly. Such writers say in effect: 'Why should we trouble with factual writing when we're able to invent our own stories, contrive our own characters and themes?-journalism is only literary photography, and unbecoming to the serious writer's artistic dignity ... .' "When 1 first formed my theories concerning the nonfiction novel, many people with whom 1discussed the matter . were unsympathetic. They felt that what 1 proposed, a narrative form that employed all the techniques of fictional art but was nevertheless immaculately factual, was little more than a literary solution for fatigued novelists suffering from 'failure of imagination.' Personally, 1 felt that this attitude represented a 'failure of imagination' on their part. "Of course a properly done piece of narrative reporting requires imagination-and a good deal of special technical equipment that is usually beyond the resources-and 1don't doubt the interests-of most fictional writers; an ability to transcribe verbatim long conversations, and to do so without taking notes or using tape recordings. "Also, it is necessary to have a 20/20 eye for visual detail-in this sense, it is quite true that one must be a 'literary photographer,' though an exceedingly selective one. But, above all, the reporter must be able to empathize with personalities outside his usual imaginative range, mentalities unlike his own, kinds of people he would never have written about had he not been forced to by encountering them inside the journalistic situation. This last is what first attracted me to the notion of narrative reportage. " ... 1 read in the paper the other day that 1 had been quoted as saying that reporting is now more interesting than fiction. Now that's not what 1 said, and it's important to me to get this straight. What 1 think is that reporting can be made as interesting as fiction, and done as artisticallycontinued
Capote's theory about the non-fiction novel created a spirited critical controversy, which has not yet completely subsided. underlining those two 'as'e~. I don't mean to say that one is a superior form to the other. I feel that creative reportage has been neglected and has great relevance to twentiethcentury writing. And while it can be an artistic outlet for the creative writer, it has never been particularly explored." From the moment Capote first enunciated the phrase "non-fiction novel" the critical flames were fanned-and fanned to a point from which, even now, they have not altogether subsided. In the throes of a heated polemic about In Cold Blood between Capote and the English critic Kenneth Tynan, for example, Tynan at one point noted: "Truman Capote seems to have invented yet another new art form after the non-fiction novel, the semi-documentary tantrum." William Phillips, editor of the influential American intellectual journal Partisan Review, also took exception to the idea of the non-fiction novel. "Some people," he remarked in his review of the book, "have been spreading the notion, promoted by Capote himself, that In Cold Blood represents a new literary genre, the non-fiction novel. Now the idea of non- or anti-fiction is quite chic and fits in with fashionable attitudes about modern forms, and with attitudes about novelty in general. ... "In Truman Capote's book, what stands out is not Capote's inventiveness, but his fidelity to the 'facts.' The emphasis is on the fact, not on the fiction, on re-creation, not creation. Capote's aim seemed to be to preserve the picture of the place and of the events before, during; and after the murder, in the way it appeared to everyone involved or as it might appear to an all-seeing, objective observerlike God, who is clearly not a novelist." Phillips went on to make the point that Capote's book is successful insofar as he violated the tenets of his own theoretical assumptions. He finds this to be particularly so in Capote's handling of the killers, Hickock and Smith. "What power is generated in portraying the killers comes from Capote's need to humanize the criminal mind, to connect it with the most ordinary, often legitimate, sometimes appealing acts and feelings. If Smith and Hickock come alive at all, it is because Capote has tried to see them as whole men, so that their sexual habits, their feeling towards their friends and families, their sense of themselves-all appear to be of a piece. Sometimes it almost seems as though Capote identifies himself with the killers, particularly when he makes their most perverse desires look plausible and ordinary, the way we like to think of our own desires." Another literary critic, Mrs. Diana Trilling, has made the attempt to analyse the analyses of Capote's book. Among other things, in writing about In Cold Blood, she addressed herself to the question of why so many critics and readers had reservations about the book. These reservations, she felt; were inextricably tied up with the method of objectivity, which is one of the first principles laid down by
Capote in his theory of the non-fiction novel. "These seem to me reservations of a moral, or 'human,' more than of an aesthetic nature," Mrs. Trilling wrote, "and they derive, I think, from Mr. Capote's stance as the wholly neutral reporter offacts-from-Jife which, while themselves so highly charged, are presented to us by a mind which refuses to be adequate to their tortuous meanings or appropriate to their terror. By his unwillingness to be implicated in his story, whether by the way he disposes his emotions between the murderers and their victims or by the way he invests his narrative with the intensity and anxiety proper to an unresolvable moral dilemma, Mr. Capote is employing objectivity as a shield for evasion. This is what is resented." One cannot read all these dissections of In Cold Blood without somewhat regretting, as Capote himself by now must, that the prickly issue of the non-fiction novel ever arose. For in point of fact, the theory neither enhances nor diminishes the book in any significant way. Whatever name one wishes to attach to it, the power of the book remains. The critic F.W. Dupee put it best when he wrote: "It is no longer poetry but history, preposterous current history, which beggars the literary imagination and requires us to attempt a 'willing suspension of disbelief.' But it is surely to Capote's credit that one cannot quite suspend one's disbelief that In Cold Blood is a novel." The force of Dupee's comment is that, however wild, meaningless, and perhaps insane was the slaughter of the Clutter family, because of Capote's treatment one cannot for a moment fail to believe in its reality. What Capote has proved in writing the book is neither the existence nor the utility of something called the "non-fiction novel," but that journalism, in the hands of an artist, is capable of reaching the high plateau of art. In Cold Blood is indubitably an artistic achievement. In describing the bleakest event that the little town of Holcomb, Kansas, will hopefully ever have visited upon it, Capote has shown, in an ordered and bold manner, the forces of rationality and irrationality meeting head-on; the tenuousness of human security and ultimately of human life itself; and finally, in the shabby, even pathetic persons of Dick Hickock and Perry Smith, the banal forms that certain kinds of evil can take. "I'm still very much haunted by the whole thing," Capote has said of In Cold Blood. "I have finished the book; but in a sense I haven't finished it: it keeps churning around in my head. It particularizes itself now and then, but not in the sense that it brings about a total conclusion. ICs like the echo of E.M. Forster's Malabar Caves in his novel A Passage to India, the echo thaCs meaningless and yet it's there: one keeps hearing it all the time." , Truman Capote's, readers continue to hear that same echo. This fact is perhaps the final testament to the artistic accomplishment that is In Cold Blood. END
Dear Sir: SPAN is one of our favourite journals and we read it with great pleasure, profit and, in a way, pride too. I find in it much information, presented in a picturesque form and attractively illustrated. The discussion of educational activities and problems is useful and the approach to social and political questions reveals a catholic outlook. It is no exaggeration to state that the magazine is not only recreative but creative too. N.V. KINKAR
Dear Sir: It was interesting to read the article on Thanjavur's bumper harvest in the January 1968 issue of SPA . I find, however, that there is one significant omission, namely, that the Food Corporation of India which has set up thirty mechanical drying centres in Thanjavur District has no place in the narrative, although photographs showing different operations in our drying centres are in plenty. These centres, each with a capacity for drying 160 lonnes of paddy a day, were put up by the Food Corporation in record time and at considerable expense. The importance of these drying centres to meet thehandling problems posed by a sudden increase inproduction needs no emphasis; more so in view of the fact that the traditional practice of rushing thepaddy to neighbouring districts for parboiling and milling as well as sun-drying invariably resultsin loss to the Thanjavur farmer, to the State and the nation. The mechanical drying of paddy at places nearer to the fields would not only eliminateserious losses, but bring about a substantial improvement in the milling qualities of the grainand therefore enable a higher percentage of recoveryof rice. I thought it worthwhile to bring these facts to your notice. S.K. JAIN Public Relations Officer The Food Corporatiol/ of India New Delhi
Dear Sir: SPAN has interested me for some time. I particularly like its features on the lives of great menof your country and of course of great institutions.Unlike the former who grow ripe with ageand then decay, institutions grow up adding
to the life of the community and contributing greatly to the welfare of future generations. Of particular interest to me has been the life of law in your country and the lives of great jurists. In another context, I may pardonably quote one of your distinguished judges who said that it is necessary for Americans to know how people in another country, separated from themselves not by time but by space, live their lives, form their associations and have their aspirations, sense of beauty, love and happiness. By giving its readers many small but intimate pictures of people and happenings in America and other lands and emphasizing how co-operative endeavour can promote peaceful, constructive activity, SPAN is rendering useful service to both Indians and Americans. A.K.SARKAR Bombay
Dear Sir: The article "To Be or Not to Be," published in SPAN, December 1967, is worthy of serious notice. "No one is more than thirty minutes from oblivion," is a stern warning to mankind. Various countries, governments and scientists should take note of it. I much appreciate the exhortation of President Johnson, "Let us determine that the great space armadas of the future will go forth on voyages of peace." It is in line with the lessons received by us from great humanitarians like Jesus Christ, Guru Nanak, Buddha and Mahatma Gandhi. The article is enlightening, impressive and thoughtful. "A new race towards reasonableness" as remarked by the U.S. Secretary of Defence, is the only way to prevent mankind from committing suicide. PROF. DHYAN SINGH
Dear Sir: Since this is the Presidential election year in the United States, the article "In Pursuit of the Presidency" in your January 1968 issue is very timely. Theodore H. White's lucid exposition is a remarkable analysis, spiced with lively comment, of the American election process. On reading this article, I was prompted to get a copy of his book Making of the President-I964. Our parliamentary system in India seems to be at
present under strain and some of our political thinkers are wondering if the presidential system could not be adapted to our special needs. Such a change would of course be radical and might conceivably involve additional financial burdens. In this context, your article was thoughtprovoking and should be of interest to everyone who wishes to see our political system established on a sound basis. REKHA TANDON
Dear Sir: In the December 1967 issue of SPAN, the article "To Be or Not to Be" was most thought-provoking. The nuclear race and the survival and well-being of millions of people today are really interdependent. Such articles shed light on what is commendable in American and Indian culture and uphold the idea of universal brotherhood. PROF. V.B. PATHkK
Dear Sir: Please accept our thanks for giving us the opportunity of enjoying SPAN month after month. It circulates in our family and invariably I find our fifteen-year-old boy taking notes from SPAN to enrich his general knowledge. HARISH KHOSLA
Dear Sir: The article on SaNA in the December issue of SPAN must have been read with much interest by your Indian readers. I am sure they must be feeling-as I am-heartened and even somewhat flattered by the great interest shown by Americans in products of Indian handicrafts. This interest might be looked upon by some Indians as evidence of the superiority of Indian handicrafts as compared to American indigenous handicrafts. Personally, I find in it proof of the average American's large-heartedness and his unreserved appreciation for anything good. irrespective of the country of its origin. K. PASUPATHINATHAN
Where students teach
Resemblin!( a massive bronze snail, Valley Winds School, is the home of an equally unorthodox system for teaching its pupils.
Right, in the schoo/library's exhibit section, three nineyear-old boys take apart plastic skeleton of the human body.
Unlike in most schools where almost all a child's time is spent under the supervision of teachers, at Valley Winds the goal is to train each child to teach himself, to develop into an independent thinker. THEONE-STOREY, tan-brick structure crouches like a huge, dormant snail in an otherwise ordinary neighbourhood. The flag-pole in the centre of its spiralling roof looks like the antenna of a Martian spaceship. There is no front door, but a series of many doors around the rim of the building. Behind some of these doors nearly 200 youngsters from the nine-totwelve age group can be found scattered about a cavernous, wedgeshaped room, which is carpeted from wall to wall in soft beige. In one
Reprinted with permission from The Saturday Evening Post. ÂŠ 1965 by the Curtis Publishing Company.
corner, a snub-nosed girl, oblivious to the hubbub around her, sprawls on the floor studying a book on Egyptian archaeology. Nearby, two ten-year-old boys wearing earphones are absorbed in a tape recording of Ferde Grofe's Grand Canyon Suite. A short distance away, seven girls watch themselves perform their own ballet on video-tape television. Along a curved wall, about twenty youngsters are clustered around one of the teachers. "Who knows," the teacher asks, "when the Spanish Armada sailed up the English Channel?" A hand immediately pops up and a boy wearing a red T-shirt calls out, "1588." "Right," the teacher says. "And you all have some idea of why the Spanish lost. But now I want you to think: What would have happened if the Spanish had won?" You leave the classroom, one of six located on the outer perimeter of the building, and pass through a door directly into a library-study hall, which stretches halfway around the school. Indirect lighting bathes the tables, desks and book cabinets in a soft glow. A freckle-faced girl, abollt seven, scurries by, her arms filled with books. She stops at a desk, presents a card, and a nineyear-old librarian checks them out. There are no teachers, just children from six to twelve, all busily studying. One youngster is working with a table-model teaching machine. Three nine-year-old boys are taking apart a plastic model of the human body. At the end of the room a seven-year-old boy gazes in fascination at an indoor stream swarming with goldfish, minnows and frogs. Beyond a glass door at the end of the library is a brilliantly-lighted children's theatre. A play is in final rehearsal, and an audience of some fifty children sits spellbound on the two rows of carpeted steps that coil around the stage. A young boy in a white plumed hat has just approached a tower that reaches to the ceiling. Grabbing a dangling rope, he nimbly
hauls himself up to a balcony where a girl with golden hair shyly waits. Suddenly a voice hidden behind a curtain booms, "I have come to save you, fair Rapunzel," and the nineyear-old prince and the eight-yearold princess stumble into each other's embrace. In the audience, arms wave about, bodies squirm and the theatre rocks with laughter. It is the laughter of children who, whether they are fully aware of it or not, are involved in one of the most novel experiments in American public-school education. They are the 526 children enrolled at Valley Winds School in suburban St. Louis, Missouri. Completed in late 1964, Valley Winds has become a mecca for educators from all over the U.S. "I think Valley Winds is going to lead the way for the redevelopment of grade-school education in the United States," declared Dr. Bruce Joyce, a consultant to the school and a director of elementary-teacher education at the University of Chicago. Dr. John 1. Goodlad, a leading curriculum expert and a director of a lab school similar to Valley Winds at the University of California at Los Angeles, added, "Valley Winds represents a promising attempt to put into effect many long overdue changes. There is no one answer, but we must have alternatives to the old ways of teaching children. " The ultimate goal at Valley Winds' is also the aim of most educators: to turn each child into an independent thinker who can teach himself. In contrast to traditional elementary schools, where most youngsters spend ninety per cent of their time being taught by a teacher, Valley Winds allows its nine-throughtwelve-year-olds, and even some of the younger children, to spend at least half of their school day with little or no instruction. After each youngster has acquired the basic skills of reading, writing and arithmetic, he is expected to pick out topics in science, social studies and literature, then plan his own projects and work out his own school-day study schedule. He can work alone or with a friend, and if he likes he can spend the entire day studying the subject that interests him. (There are no bells or buzzers at Valley Winds.) . After he has completed the Basic Skills Division (ages six to eight) and the Transition Division (ages eight
and nine), he is placed in the Independent Study Division (nine to twelve) where he is provided with special instructors. In addition to being non-graded and taught by teams of teachers, a child can call on a wide variety of electronic and mechanical self-teaching devices from tape recordings to teaching machines to movies and educational television. In effect, at Valley Winds School, children as young as seven are following learning procedures that are usually reserved for college students. But, whereas many colleges boast a select student body, the children at Valley Winds Elementary represent a true cross-section of lower-middle-class suburbia and have an overall I.Q. average of 108,just a shade above the national norm. Charles Mansfield, former principal at Valley Winds, explained it all this way: "Because of the rapid expansion of knowledge, much of what a child will learn in class will be out of date when he graduates. If he goes to college, he will either have to be able to learn on his own or get out. For these reasons we are trying to teach children how to learn, how to be responsible for themselves." It was this concern for the future that gave rise to Valley Winds. Until 1952, the Riverview Gardens School District, where Valley Winds is located, consisted mostly of small farms. Gradually, and then in a flood, young middle-class families began pouring into the community. The district's school population soared from 2,000 in 1952 to more than 10,000 last year. It wasn't long before the old ways of educating children seemed inadequate. In August 1962, the district's school board hired Dr. Nolan Estes, a six-foot-three, wavy-haired Texan, as superintendent. His credentials included a doctorate from Harvard's administrative-career programme and three years' experience as an assistant superintendent of the school system in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Doctor Estes offered one other important qualification. He exuded revolution. For some time Doctor Estes had been dissatisfied with the confining, box-shaped conventional school and the lock-step, grade-by-grade education it offered. ''Take any typical group of six-year-olds," Doctor Estes said, "and you will find that some have the ability of a four-yearcontinued
Children at Valley Winds follow learning procedures that are usually reserved for college students.
old, others of an eight-year-old. Yet the average school will take all these six-year-olds, put them in the same grade, and have the same teacher teach them all from the same textbook. It is not surprising that we bore the smart ones and frustrate the dull ones." With the backing of the school board, Doctor Estes and a team of local teachers and principals joined two dozen of the nation's top educators and proceeded to work out a 144-page prospectus for an ultramodern grade school. As Doctor Estes later explained, "There is nothing unique about what we are doing. Team teaching, non-grading, individualized learning, electronic selfteaching devices-all have been tried elsewhere. We are simply putting the most promising practices in education into one package." Once the educators had worked out their plan, the board hired John Shaver, a highly imaginative architect in Salina, Kansas, to design a school building that would reflect the same free spirit as its curriculum. Shaver managed to keep costs down by eliminating many traditional oldschool features such as hallwayswhich are used only to move traffic and take up twenty per cent of the space in most schools. By the autumn of 1964, Valley Winds was completed at a cost of Rs. 4,890,000, about average for the St. Louis area. In the case of seven-year-old Susan Klick, a fair-haired, blue-eyed tomboy, Valley Winds has already demonstrated what it can do for certain types of children. "When she first came to Valley Winds," recalls one of Susan's four teachers, "she hardly said a word." Like all the six- to eight-yearolds who had just entered the Basic Skills Division, Susan would begin a typical day with a simple lesson using a balloon to explain static electricity, followed by periods in reading, writing, arithmetic, drama and art. As they did with all the children, teachers watched Susan closely, gently searching for her weaknesses and strengths. One day while about thirty of her classmates were huddled aroun0 Miss Wendelken, some squatting, others kneeling on the carpet, Susan revealed more of her personality than might ever have happened in a conventional classroom. The children were about to compose their own group story, a device Valley
Winds teachers'use to improve reading skills and to demonstrate how to build plot, character and motivation. The chief character in this story was a turkey. One child raised his hand and started the tale. Then another added a sentence, then another, and excitement spread through the group. Suddenly, Susan leaped to her feet and began strutting and crooning like a bird. "He was," she cackled, "the scrawniest, the skinniest, the silliest looking turkey the man had ever seen." Almost as fast as the children puffed out the words, Miss Wendelken wrote them down on a transparent slide attached to an overhead projector. Moments later the youngsters were reading back Susan's sentence on a nearby screen. As they laughed and clapped, Susan hopped about in a joyous, creative frenzy. A few days later Miss Wendelken began reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, a book with a vocabulary for twelve-year-olds. Susan seemed fascinated and asked if she could read the book herself. Despite Miss Wendelken's doubtsSusan had tested at an eight-year-
old reading level-the teacher gave the child the book. Each day for fifty minutes Susan and about twenty other children gathered in a reading circle. While the other youngsters quietly read to themselves from their own library books, Susan read aloud to a teacher. At first Miss Wendelken couldn't believe that Susan was actually comprehending. She asked other teachers on her team to watch the child. By the end of October, two months after Susan had entered the Valley Winds programme, the other teachers confirmed that Susan had leaped from a reading level of a typical eight-year-old to that of an elevenyear-old. "There is nothing that we did," said Miss Wendelken, "that any good teacher could not have done. And Susan, being a bright child, learned a lot on her own. But Susan did have a special advantage at Valley Winds. She had four pairs of eyes watching her. And because there were four of us, we had the time to work with her individually, to question and to talk to her about what she was reading so that she learned not just to read words but to
Interested observer Above, pupils write, stage and act their own plays. Teacher is an interested observer, available (or guidance when required.
Vast classroom Openness of learning area allows freedom of movement, encol/rages students to exchange ideas, become interested in activities of others.
did was to discover a child and help a child discover herself." Now, when Susan arrives in school, she goes straight to a desk in the library. For the next two hours she is not required to attend class and no teacher bothers her. She may, if she wishes, spend the entire time reading. When she is not reading, Susan tests herself on comprehension by reading passages in a reading lab and then answering questions, works on special phonics and grammar exercises and writes her own short stories. At lunchtime Susan eats and plays checkers at her desk and then during the remainder of the day has classes with her own age group in maths, drama or art. Eventually, when she turns nine, Susan will join the Independent Study Division. Then she will be provided with an academic adviser who will be at her constant call. One of the most progressivelooking among the advisers is Beldin Hare, an unruffled, eager twenty-sixyear-old teacher who majored in psychology and elementary education at the University of Wisconsin.
short-sleeved shirts, spent part of 1964 teaching in a traditional school. In Hare's class, twenty-nine youngsters, aged nine to twelve, sit at yellow-and-tangerine-coloured plastic desks arranged in clusters of three and four. In one corner, a group of boys and girls is watching the dissection of a frog on a movie screen, while others are listening to a tape-recorded lecture about the New Yark Stock Exchange or building a maze for mice. Hare himself, without having to tell his class that he is leaving, steps into the library with a stocky, blackhaired eleven-year-old whom we shall call Andy. Together they sit down at a table. Andy, one of Hare's slow children, finds social studies difficult. "Okay," Hare says, picking up a pencil, "let's both write down some topics you think you might be interested in." "Eskimos," Andy says. "Is there anything else?" Hare asks. "Yeah. World wars. And the United States." "Good," says Hare. "Now is
Teacher's helper Students assist in routine school operations. Standing on a chair, the little girl, above, helps her teacher with the library's filing system.
"I am convinced that the traditional method is probably not the best way," says Dr. Nolan Estes.
~here one topic that interests you more than any other?" The boy thinks for a moment. "The United States." "That's a big topic," Hare says. "Anything special?" "Yeah. How people make their living," Andy replies. Hare suggests that Andy may wish to describe the major occupations, the way different industries buy, sell and produce goods, the exports and imports of each State. He tells him about the variety of materials from books to film strips available in the library. The boy then goes off to begin his own socialstudies folder which he will eventually fill with essays detailing what he has learned. Hare will prod and help him. But most of the time Andy will be left to work on his own. Hare finds that the bright youngsters who make up about one-third of his group can spend almost the entire day at self-study. But even more important, Hare says, the children with average ability and even some of the slow ones are devoting half the school day to their own projects. Although each youngster can spend an entire day working in any subject he chooses, he is expected
over a week's fime to cover a minimum number of units in maths, social studies, science and the language arts. Throughout the school day Hare goes from student to student, asking and answering questions. If, like Andy, a student neglects a subject, Hare suggests a topic and then keeps after him. Twice a year the staff at Valley Winds holds teacher-parent conferences and hands out report cards. Since there are no quizzes, grades, which range from "excellent" to "unsatisfactory," are based mostly on teacher observation. What delights Hare most is the children's own excitement and interest in their school work. Dennis Estes, a tall, heavy-set twelve-yearold, recently fell in love with astronomy. He is now communicating his passion to two classmates. Each morning he gives his own lectures on such topics as Halley's comet, the solar system and life on Mars. Although he is still doing simple addition and subtraction-his weakness is maths-Dennis has, with the help of a book, worked out a way to measure the diameter of the sun by holding up a cardboard with a hole against a window and focusing the sun's image on a piece of paper. He
composes a weekly one-page newspaper filled with cartoons, quizzes and essays about astronomy, which Hare distributes to the class. "There is no homework," Dennis said, "but I read books and stuff about astronomy almost all the time. I have also ordered films for the class on the universe and a trip to the moon. You get a lot of freedom here. I like this schooLIt feels good." The children's enthusiasm is shared by many of the parents. Mrs. Bette Sullivan, the Iibranan at nearby Moline Elementary School, has an eight-year-old daughter who entered the Valley late in 1964. "Prior to that," Mrs. Sullivan said, "Rebecca wanted to stay home from school so bad she'd get sick. We got her glasses then, because we thought it was her eyes that were causing most of the tension. Now she says school is like going to a picnic every day. She's doing more and brings home things like division which she doesn't understand yet. But she's trying to figure it out herself. She's found she's not dumb." Despite its free atmosphere, Valley Winds has fewer behaviour problems than most conventional schools. According to Mansfield: "At Valley Winds, children are
allowed to do many things forbidden in the conventional school. They may wear Bermuda shorts, sit or lie on the floor, talk to each other and chew gum. There is no educational reason, incidentally, why a child should not be allowed to chew gum as long as he disposes of it properly. We feel we can instil self-discipline only by giving children the opportunity for misbehaviour. If they do something wrong, then we sit down with the child and discuss it." Valley Winds, however, is not without its critics, and its biggest asset, the freedom it allows its students, has also become its major drawback. Several parents have complained that some of the older children, who at other schools became used to being told what to study and how to behave, are overwhelmed by Valley Wind's permissive atmosphere. Unable to cope with so much intellectual and social freedom, one youngster reportedly returns home each day in tears. So far the staff has failed to find a solution. However, they are convinced that the children who begin their training in the six-to-eightyear-old group will be prepared for the heady freedom the school offers
in the Independent Study Division. Some parents fear that their children. who seem to thrive in the Valley Winds atmosphere, will not be able to adjust to the rigid, traditional programmes they will encounter after they are graduated. The superintendent expects that eventually the entire school district (ten other elementary schools, two junior highs and one senior high) will follow the approach at Valley Winds. The biggest problem is finding teachers who can discard the old, rigid ways. To staff Valley Winds, Mansfield scoured the country, making some fifty phone calls to places like Harvard and the Universities of Florida and Chicago. He asked for promising teacher candidates and finally found twelve he felt he could hire. "All were just beginning," he said. "They didn't have the time to establish other teaching habits." The school's seven other teachers came from within the district. No one at this point can say whether Valley Winds and the handful of other schools like it will cause a revolution in American education. But, says Nolan Estes, "I am convinced that the traditional method is probably not the best way." END
Sheltered play Ceiling infra-red heaters allow exercise without woollens in winter. Teaching areas face on outdoors giving children sense of freedom.'
Real-life adventure The school has its own pond, above, stocked with fish and frogs, and observing them becomes a fascinating real-life adventure.
Diverse activities Below, carpeting provides acoustical control and movable cabinetry creates areas for quiet, uninterrupted study.
In the effort to fight the growing menace of malnutrition, scientists in the u.s. and other countries have improved the nutritional content of food grains and successfully developed new man-made foods rich in protein-one component
N ew foods from science :::b;~r~~d~:; mother, above, glves her child a glass of Incaparina, a blend of corn, soybean, yeast, cottonseed, calcium carbonate and vitamin A developed by the bistitute of Nutrition for Central America and Panama.
SCIENCE IS JOINING the world's campaign against hunger by creating new man-made foods and improving the nutritional quality of old ones. The primary aim is to make more available the one component the body needs more than any other: protein. Meat and fish are good sources of protein, but they are relatively expensive: seven calories of feed are needed to produce one calorie of meat protein. Because of this, American food scientists and the U.S. food industry are by-passing the animal as an important protein source, and trying to secure more of this element from grains and by synthesis. Three main courses are being followed: developing varieties of grain with a higher protein content; enriching cereal grains with amino acids, an important part of protein; and perfecting new man-made protein foods. Ten years ago, for example, Purdue University began a project of grain production. Today, plant geneticists there are developing a new variety of corn (maize) having approximately twice as much protein as conventional corn. Moreover, the corn is particularly rich in lysine, an amino acid needed to build animal protein. When laboratory test animals were fed the new corn they gained weight three times as fast as animals raised on ordinary corn. Grains enriched with extra amino acids are already being produced in the United States, and are to be used on a large scale in India. For the first time, scientists will be able to get precise measurements of weight gains and other biochemical results in persons eating the enriched grain, as compared with those eating ordinary wheat. New man-made protein mixtures, often called "artifact foods," are a fascinating part of the nutrition story. The Institute of Nutrition for Central America and Panama (INCAP), in Guatemala, is well known to the world's nutrition experts for its development of lncaparina. This concentrated protein food is a blend of corn, cottonseed, soybean flour, and yeast, plus calcium carbonate and vitamin A. Incaparina has dramatically demonstrated its potency in correcting protein deficiencies. Another important artifact food is Saridele, made in Indonesia from peanuts, corn, tapioca, dried milk, and soybeans. American scientists say similar high-protein foods can be produced wherever there is a good local supply of grains and other raw materials. Vegetable protein mixtures are not new, but in the past their use has been restricted because often they didn't look, smell or taste very appetizing. That is no longer the case: artifact foods can now be coloured, flavoured and textured to resemble any "natural" food. Preparation is equally varied, as the protein concentrates can be dried, steamed, boiled or baked. Several food companies in the United States have marketed or are developing artifact foods that look and taste like meat, chicken, seafood and various kinds of sausage. The companies call these products "meat analogs"-meaning things that are not meat, but are very much like it. (The producers do not like their meat analogs to be called "synthetic" or "imitation." They point out that butter, cheese or powdered eggs are not synthetic, but simply processed foods; and protein processed to resemble meat belongs in the same category, they say.) Because the meat analogs contain no meat at all, they can be eaten without regard to religious or other dietary restrictions. Meat substitutes have been made for more than 100 years, but have mostly been unsatisfactory. The chief drawback was texture, which lacked the right kind of "chewiness." Food experts describe the texture of meat as the "ability to bite back" when it is chewed. This quality has now been duplicated by a process in which very pure soybean protein is forced through thousands of tiny holes in a platinum
plate. The resulting fibres are then treated, stretched, coloured, flavoured, and shaped into "meat" that can bite back. In a separate category among man-made foods are those obtained by growing tiny organisms-yeasts-on a suitable nutrient. For many years yeasts have been grown commercially, for animal and some human foods, using carbohydrates-usually sugar in the form of molasses-to feed them. Such yeasts produce vitamins and proteins comparable to those of animals. This is a very efficient way to get protein. For one thing, the yeasts grow very rapidly, doubling their weight in about five hours-several thousand times faster than farm animals can turn feed into protein. Also, the yeast organisms are not at all demanding-they grow without soil, sunlight, rainfall or human labour. They require little more than a tank with nutrient. Recent experiments have indicated that it may be possible to improve the process by using hydrocarbons instead of carbohydratesthat is, letting the yeasts feed on petroleum instead of molasses. There are certain technical difficulties involved in growing the yeasts on petroleum, but they are all offset by one major advantage: productivity. A kilogram of sugar will yield only half a kilogram of yeast, but under favourable conditions a kilogram of hydrocarbon will produce a kilogram of yeast. The petroleum process has one other interesting advantage. The yeasts grow best on a petroleum fraction known as gas oil, which contains paraffin. Because the yeasts feed mainly on the wax in the paraffinic oil, they in effect refine the oil as they grow. When the yeasts have finished consuming the wax the remaining oil is more fluid, and is suitable for diesel engines and domestic heating. Yeasts grown on petroleum are more than fifty per cent protein, and the protein itself does not differ in any essential respect from protein produced by any other natural process. They are rich in B vitamins and a number of amino acids; most important, they have a high content of lysine, in which most grains are poor. Drying and purifying the yeasts leaves them in the form of powder or whitish flakes with no pronounced odour or flavour. The concentrated protein can then be processed in the same way as protein from soybeans or any other source, and can be made into many dishes ranging from meat to fish sauce. Proponents of petroleum as a food for yeasts say that no other method can produce protein in large quantities as rapidly, and with as little effort. By using only a small fraction of the world's annual output of petroleum, these scientists say, it would be possible to produce twenty million tons of pure protein per year-enough to double present production. Whatever the source of the protein, food scientists are hopeful that the new artifact foods will do much to meet the world's intensifying food crisis. They believe that the future development of food will parallel, in many respects, the course that textiles have already taken. Only twenty-five years ago most American men wore suits of "natural" fibres-cotton or wool. Today synthetic fibres are used to make clothing, and there is a good substitute for shoe leather. Experience has shown that it is somewhat difficult to change national tastes in food; but with artifact foods it is not necessary to do so. Instead, the food is tailored to satisfy the needs, tastes, and customs of the people. That is one reason why American aid officials and food scientists alike hope that eventually all developing countries will be able to manufacture their own high-protein foods, using local raw materials. In that way improving the country's diet will also benefit the economy, and the people will be getting the kind of food they enjoy eating. END
Mineral products are important in Nevada's economy. Above, aerial view of a mining company's operation.
Jet transport aircraft in final stage of completion at the Boeing Company's plant at Renton, Washington.
LURE OF THE AMERICAN
The topography, economy and culture of the American Far West are portrayed in this article, the second in a continuing series of features on the fifty American States.
STIRREDBY the call of "Westward Ho!", thousands of pioneers blazed a trail to the American Far West in the midnineteenth century, opening a vast, new region to enterprise and industry. Many went in quest of gold and others to settle as farmers, planters or traders in the new lands of promise and opportunity. The fruits of their labours, and of succeeding generations, are reflected in the enormous progress made by the Far Western States and their continued attraction for emigrants from other parts of the United States and from abroad. The region has many places of great scenic beauty. Its cities attain one of the highest standards of urban living in the world, and a highly developed technology fosters the growth of agriculture and industry. Education is widespread and cultural pursuits are open to all citizens.
Above: Films from Hollywood, world's motion picture capital, have made major contribution to popular entertainment.
Illustrative of San Francisco's topography is view, at left, of cable cars on city's steep streets.
Bottom: Vacationers make a trip on horseback in the Trinity Alps, a wilderness area of Northern California.
Right: Grape harvesting in Sonoma Valley, California. The State produces more than a quarter of the country's total output of fruit and vegetables. Gourd crop in Riverside, California, benefits from a vast irrigation system, key to State's agricultural prosperity.
Below: A Basque shepherd and his dogs move a flock of sheep across a stream in northern Nevada. The State has about fifty million acres of pasture-land.
Modern techniques are the key to agricultural abundance IN THE American Far West, as elsewhere in the world, man follows the ancient vocations of farming and sheeprearing, but modern techniques enable him to extract more from land and livestock than his forefatheis. Reminders of the country's hoary past are the groves of giant redwood trees on California's Pacific Coast. Private donations and purchases by the State have preserved some 100,000 acres of the primeval redwood forest which once covered the area.
Reputed to be the oldest living things on earth, the giant sequoia trees on California's Pacific Coast, at right, are as high as a thirty-storey building.
SOMEOF THE largest and best known institutes of higher learning-the University of California, with its eight campuses, Stanford University and the California Institute of Technology-are located within the area. More Nobel Prizewinners and scientists are at work in California than in any other American State. Research in all fields of science and technology has attained a high degree of thoroughness. Architecture, painting and sculpture flourish in the region. There are many museums; one of the largest is the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Arizona and other States abound in tourist attractions and opportunities for outdoor recreation.
The Hoover Peace Library, above, at Stanford University, California, is a campus landmark. The tower gives a panoramic view of campus and environs.
Impassioned crowd of Californian students" below, engages in peaceful demonstration. Campuses are often scenes of keen debate on controversies.
Above, a C-Stellarator at Hanford Laboratory, Richland, Washington, is used in thermo-nuclear research for production of electric power. Left, Oak Creek Canyon, Arizona, offers plenty of sunshine for bathing, attracts vast numbers of tourists to State throughout the year.
STEEPED IN COLOUR and legend, the American Far West has a special place in the chronicle of the United States' growth as a nation. Countless books, songs and films have enshrined the experiences of the hardy adventurers who began the great trek to the west-the region now covered by the States of California, Oregon, Washington, Nevada, Arizona and New Mexico-in the mid-nineteenth century. Lured by the prospect of free virgin land or the quest for gold, they accepted the challenge of the unknown and ventured forth in their lumbering, ox-drawn wagons, blazing a trail which millions were to follow in the coming years. One of history's greatest migrations, this mass movement of people opened vast regions of semi-wilderness to economic development. But not everyone who sought his fortune in the American West was immediately successful. The unsettled conditions of the pioneering era bred licence and encouraged lawlessness. Mark Twain described Virginia City, Nevada, as "a good place for a man to lose his religion .... There were open gambling places, murders, street fights, riots, a whisky mill every sixteen steps, haifa-dozen jails and some talk of building a church. It was no place for a Presbyterian-and I did not remain one for long." In Virginia City Mark Twain worked as a reporter for a crusading newspaper, the Territorial Enterprise, which is still published from the same building and preserves his desk and other mementos. "The silver lands of Nevada," as he described the region, may not draw fortune hunters now but they attract millions of tourists each year. The mountainous State, with its invigorating, dry climate is indeed something of a tourist's paradise. Campers can choose from among hundreds of picturesque sites. The State's forests abound in game ranging from quail and wild duck to deer, antelope and the large elk. On Anaho Island in Pyramid Lake is one of the largest pelican rookeries in the world. , Then there are the "ghost towns"-communities which came to life in the mid-nineteenth century following the discovery of Rpld or silver and were abandoned when the mines ran out. The most famous of these was Virginia City, but seve'ral others are also silent reminders of the past. It was the gold rush, too, which focused world-wide attention on California. On January 24, 1848-nine days before the signing of the treaty by which California was ceded to the United States by Mexico-the cry of "Gold!" rang out at John Sutter's sawmill at Coloma. As news of the discovery spread to the eastern part of America and the outside world, thousands of adventurous young people poured into California. So strong was the lure of gold that "ships deserted by their sailors crowded the bay at San Francisco, soldiers deserted wholesale, churches were emptied, town councils ceased to sit, merchants, clerks, lawyers and judges and criminals, everybody in fact, flocked to the foothills" in quest of the precious metal. While accelerated by the rush for gold, the movement of people continued for many years after the last nugget had been mined in the area. California's population rose from about 20,000 to 380,000 at the end of the decade, and this "westering impulse of the American movement" has never ceased. The State's present population of some nineteen million is the highest of any American State and has more than tripled since 1930. Behind this influx of immigrants is the longing for opportunities in a land of sunshine and spaciousness. Many places in California normally have more than 200 clear days a year, some even more than 250. San Francisco gets less than nineteen inches of rainfall and Los Angeles less than fifteen inches a year. The climate of most of the Pacific coast is mild, the minimum winter temperature in San Francisco being no lower than forty-two degrees Fahrenheit. The State's diversified and highly developed economy owes as much to natural advantages as to the application of modern, scientific techniques. Agriculture is mechanized and the shift is towards large farms where use of progressive techniques and mechanical devices results in large yields and increased profits. California's most important farmlands receive virtually no rainfall in the growing seasons, and the State depends on a highly developed irrigation system for its agricultural leadership. The principal crop is now cotton with a yield per acre three times as high as the national average. California also produces more than a quarter of the country's total supply of fruit, nuts and vegetables and is a leading supplier of rice. The industrial complex-including the giant aero-space industries which employ about a third of all manufacturing employees-is centred round the cities of San Francisco, Los Angeles and San Diego. Situated on a series of hills at the tip of a narrow peninsula, San Francisco, with its land-locked h~rbour, crooked avenues with tall buildings and bright little homes on hill
slopes, has been called a three-dimensional city. Two spectacular bridges link it, across the Golden Gate and the Bay, with the greater metropolitan area including the cities of Oakland and Berkeley. The port handles imports and exports of the value of $1,400,000,000 annually; the international airport is the largest on the Pacific Coast. The development of Los Angeles, now larger in area than any other American city, has taken place mainly during this century. More than seven million people live within Greater Los Angeles and the vast metropolitan area has many thriving industries including steel fabrication, electronics, film and television production. North of California, the two States of Oregon and Washington have much in common. Split by the Cascade Mountains which stretch like a mighty backbone from north to south, the States fall into two distinct physical regions of moist valleys of the west and dry inland plateaus of the east. Both States have vast forest areas and are large suppliers of timber. Along the 300-mile long coastline of Oregon nestle lumber towns, beautiful beaches and picturesque fishing villages. Portland, located at the confluence of two rivers, is one of the country's leading fresh-water ports. At one time just an outpost of the nation, the State of Washington now ranks high economically and culturally. Two major influences on its economy are the Pacific Ocean and the Grand Coulee Dam, keystone of the U.S. Government's Columbia Basin Project. Ships from many countries of Asia call at Washington's ports, which also handle the bulk ofthe shipping to and from Alaska and do a heavy trade via the Panama Canal. The Grand Coulee Dam-completed in 1942 as part of the great programme of national resources development which began in the 1930s under the New Dealprovides irrigation for over one million acres of land in arid south-central Washington and electricity for homes and industries. Washington's chief port , and th'elar,gest U.S. city north of San Francisco, is Seattle, nestling between two mountain ranges in a setting of scenic beauty. Itsfamous floating bridge spanning Lake Washington, with 100,000 tons of concrete and steel resting on the water, is reputed to be the world's heaviest structure afloat. Besides the salmon and lumber industries, manufacture of aircraft is now an important industry in the Seattle area; the Boeing Company-manufacturer of the famous 707 and now building America's first Supersonic transport-operates huge plants at Seattle and Renton. Atomic-development centres, enormous air bases and diverse mamifacturing industries have also brought about profound changes in what-was not long ago the desert economy of the Arizona-New Mexico region. In recent years this region has registered large gains in population and millions of dollars of outside capital have flowed into the two States to develop mining, explore for oil and establish new industries. In Arizona, too, is one of America's biggest scenic attractions-the 217mile-long and mile-deep Grand Canyon of the Colorado River. In this immense, incredible gorge, the visitor may view "the ladder of the ages" as he descends to the canyon floor and sees our planet's history unfolding in the colossal cross-section of the earth's crust laid bare by the river. Matching the American Far West's variety of spectacle and thriving economy is its outstanding progress on the educational and cultural planes. California alone has 182institutions of higher learning including the gigantic University of California with its eight campuses and a total enrolment of about 73,000 students. Three bfthe world's largest astronomical observatories are located within the State. Hollywood, the world's film capital, is a Los Angeles district. In Southern California is the almost equally famous, fabulous amusement park, Disneyland, creation of the late Walt Disney. San Francisco and Los Angeles are important centres of art and music. The Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Zubin Mehta, visited India at the end of last year and thrilled audiences in Delhi and Bombay. The large proportion of Red Indian population in New Mexico and Arizona makes its own special contribution to the culture of that region. The great summer dances of the Pueblo Indians, part of their religious ritual, have been described as one of America's finest spectacles. The days of the pioneers and ox-cart trails may be over but the lure of the American Far West is still strong and millions continue to be drawn to its spacious, sunny lands. END
The 217-mile-Iong Grand Canyon, Arizona, is described as "the ladder of the ages." Photo at right shows lightning strike the Canyon.
Logging in North West America