SCHOOLS

Learning Years are Forever

Few individuals or families can make much progress in our world today without the help of many years in school. The more mature the student is the harder he will work and the greater will be his benefits and the benefits to society. Still after all of the twelve or twenty or twenty-four or more years in school, learning never ends: one is always a student.

I should mention, before I start writing of the education of this Harlan family, something about C. Allen's time at Concord school, in the schools at Columbia, and at the University of Tennessee, and a bit about mine at Bartlett and the University of Michigan. Those were the early years.

When you consider that C. Allen's sister, Sarah, needed only 6 months beyond her high schooling to qualify for a teaching certificate in a school of eight grades in rural Tennessee, the Board's choice of teachers was not necessarily from among the best qualified. It seems that the rod ruled and that every spanking at school brought another from Ella Harlan when the delinquent and the tale reached home. It is difficult to control seven growing boys, to show them that you mean business, and then to expect that lesson to stay in their minds. A certain amount of submission, there had to have been, or the rod would soon have been taken over by the boys. I have never understood why an application of a switch to the rear should keep the punishment in mind. I never heard of Sarah misbehaving.

Bartlett School was a one room school house; Michigan had many such schools. Two years of work in a teacher's college, 'normal' school, were required for one to earn a teaching certificate which would allow one to teach eight grades in a one room school; some training was necessary if the teacher was to have any authority. Most of those teachers were single or, if married, had no children at home. Their lack of experience was augmented by the help of people from Michigan State and the University of Michigan, which was one advantage of living in the southern part of this state. Still every once in a while the school board pulled a doosey: one year they hired the older daughter of theBlackmore family, a neighbor girl. It should be easy to understand their thinking - no room and board about which to bother; she would live at home since the school was only half a mile down the road. But that year, discipline disappeared. The farm boys all knew her: chatter became incessant; croquet balls rolled between desks; spankings were frequent and useless. I wonder what that year of pandemonium did for the ego of Amy, young student in the school, and of her older sister, teacher. When you can call a person by their first name does that diminish respect? A certain amount of formality is always necessary. Thatis why the southern custom of 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.' before the given names of family friends appeals to me. It speaks a touch of respect.

C. Allen, alone of his immediate family, made an effort to attend the university. That is not to say there were no Harlans who did not have a formal education but they were, most often, members of other branches of the family. Certainly both of the Justices had the necessary formal legal education and Benjamin Harlan, who lent money to C. Allen and who had risen so high at Bethlehem Steel, had extended his studies beyond basic engineering. Most of C. Allen's brothers could not be bothered about finishing required school years; rural society seemed to demand no more than basic knowledge, such things as can be most easily learned at home. Brothers, Bob and Porter, finished high-school after they were married and had families to support. Inspired by C. Allen and at last aware of the greater needs of their times, the next and younger generation went as far ahead as they were financially able. Mothers and fathers stretched family dollars to help.

My Mother and Father had as much education as was provided during their times for the working man's children. Both the Campbells and the Laurencelles valued education. Several of my Campbell first cousins-once-removed studied for extended years in Canadian schools. There one found good schools with high standards; the last year in highschool was considered to be the equivalent of the first year at an American college. (My only criticism was that they taught the wrong side of the War of 1812.) These cousins (I know of none of the men whose horizons extended beyond good farming.) became school teachers, nurses and Olive Stewart had a degree in psychiatry, which meant also a degree in medicine. Vera, one of my Laurencelle cousins, made extended use of her Detroit highschool education where she was able to learn Spanish, important then because of trade with South Americancountries which was expanding. Alice Seefred, going with the financial help of her Grandmother Seefred continued her studies at Wayne, earned her teaching certificate. Alice, teaching, was able to help Dorothy towards a degree in social work. I dreamed of being a librarian for books were to me magic carpets which could sweep me to other worlds and other times, filling in, along the way, all the information which formal education and experience had not had time to supply. I finished four years in Ann Arbor, graduating with honors in English (literature), did well in math, enjoyed history, and was very fond of my language professors, sat in on lecture series to flesh out the university's science requirements. I graduated with a job already in progress; I was married and very-young son John attended my graduation.

John Marshall first went to Nobel school in Detroit; he was walked to school daily by a neighbor boy who was older and very skilled in the art of taking from John any small change which the boy might have. After our move to Birmingham I took John to Quarton, introduced him to Miss Brown, Kindergarten teacher; her immediate reaction was: 'but Mrs. Harlan, he is too old for Kindergarten'. He was only five - and she took my word for it; in those days one did not need verifying papers. All of the children, until it was Joe's turn, had Miss Brown for Kindergarten. She had been so many years teaching that, finally, she was teacher for the children of the Kindergarten children of her early years. Joe's first teacher had a Polish last name and she mercifully allowed all WASPs to call her Miss Elizabeth. I took Jay to his first day at Adams for by that time we had moved to 3535. He has one memory of that day; I have another.

Both Jim and Joe had Mrs. Wilkenson for their second grade teacher, a woman beyond retirement age but of such value as a teacher that the school principal kept her working with second graders. She came to dinner one evening; Jim, excited about her coming, had festooned the house with the stamps from a correctional boys' camp, in the powder room, under the dining room windows, in the kitchen. She was enchanted. The stamps had been sent as a money-raiser; they were not intended to entertain teachers. I visited Joe's class and was invited to tell the reading group a story. So out of home experience I told the tale of the little rabbits which Harvey Beach, gardener, had found and brought to the house. Small Jeanne so loved one that she squeezed it until it ruptured; a child has difficulty learning to gauge its strength. We tried to repair the damage but could not. Tall thin, elegant, Mrs. Wilkenson confided to me that she only bought her fine clothes during end-of-the-year sales, readjusted them to suit and enjoyed them for a long time. She was always well dressed. As organized as her personal life was, so were her classes. Good Teacher.

Those were the days of great demographic changes in Birmingham; the town was growing, changing from a delightful small village to a small city. The children were bussed to far and distant schools, (or driven by Mother) for the school millage was small and the school board tried to stay within the millage-determined limits by assigning classes to any empty school room. One year the younger children were going to Beverly Hills, to Torrey and to Adams; fortunately John and Campbell were in Cranbrook. Then was the beginning of the long drive; Campbell cracked a leg bone during football practice and, later, swinging along on his crutches, he slipped and broke the bone completely. Dr. Hagemann had taken care of the cracked bone in the Cranbrook infirmary and then set the broken bone with a steel pin in Pontiac's Saint Joseph Hospital. Dr. Hagemann, school physician and surgeon, had developed that technique while working as a missionary with the Chinese. Years later, as Campbell was being examined for insurance, the doctor responding to the explanation of the scar on Cam's leg, began to tell Cam of the technique, devised by a Chinese missionary, of using steel pins; to be sure, Campbell supplied that missionary doctor's name and all details (Wonderful place Cranbrook). Back to the time of the broken bone - Cam found it difficult to get himself and his cast on the school bus. Every child after that had the same difficulty.........with exactly the same cast.

All this while, I, like any hubcap, kept going around in small circles. Driving the children to school, to extracurricular lessons, to visit with friends; all that driving had its advantages for they and I were captives in a limited space, for a limited time. I could talk to them and they could talk to me; or we could just be silent together. (In today's term that was 'bonding'.) C. Allen saw this as a waste of time; he could not understand the value of simply being together. There was one summer day, with Joyce, Jeanne and Jay attending Summer Theatre sessions at Cranbrook, Jim taking his drivers training, and I driving my taxi to-and-fro, I was three driving hours on the road and no more than three miles from home. The bikes might have saved me time but I was reluctant to give permission for any of the children to ride their bikes on the public highways. I am still concerned whenever I must pass a bike rider on the road; a bit of roughness in theroad, a gust of wind, something wrong with the bike - we may all be in trouble. The children did occasionally have permission to bike to town; today Jeanne always assures me that they were very careful to avoid biking in town, parking their bikes by the Kroger store and walking the rest of the way. The town streets were relatively safe; it was the highways which concerned me.

Somewhere along the way, C. Allen, after having promised some of our roadside acres, to a church group and having had the Pauleys react sharply to that proposal, sold the ten acres to the school board. Now I was not keen about the idea of selling any acreage of anyone but, to my notion, a school, busiest during week days and with little evening and weekend activity, would be less bothersome to the men than a church with its variety of activity times. The school was built. It was C. Allen who suffered from that building activity. Some how a man on a bulldozer is king of all he surveys. Dirt was pushed over hundreds of little pines; many small red bud trees were run over. C. Allen complained; the careless bulldozing stopped; that did not replace the lost trees.

Marvin Beerbaum, who had done the mural for the HEC building, was commissioned to paint a mural for the school. He was given an area twenty-four feet by six feet in the front corridor of the building; it is presently backed by a tile surface which faces the road. Marvin said that he thoroughly enjoyed doing a mural for children for it had been a long time since he had considered any of their needs, desires or dreams. Marvin was delighted by the youngsters who watched him as he hung the canvas; they were enchanted with his work and he with them. One youngster, watching Marvin work, remarked that he wished they had pictures like that at home. Once the mural was in place, C. Allen arranged a dedication ceremony for the naming of the school.

Since the school would be named the Harlan School, the Justice agreed to come from Washington D.C. and speak on the afternoon of the dedication. For his cousin, much removed, C. Allen invited an impressive group of people: Justice and Mrs. John Marshall Harlan were honored by the presence of Governor and Mrs. G. Mennen Williams, General and Mrs. Bork, Captain and Mrs. Ray Stanley Jones, Captain and Mrs. Marshall Martin, Dr. and Mrs. John Hannah, Dr. and Mrs. Harlan Hatcher, Dr. and Mrs. Clarence Hilbery, Dr. Charles Kennedy, the list of notables continued - and they all came. It was quite an affair with dinner served, in the drive way of 3535; when the dedication was over everyone agreed that it was an auspicious event and a wonderful party.

A year later Marvin stopped at 3535 to tell me that he was sore distressed; he had stopped at the school to inspect the mural and found it faded, almost gray at the south end and gradually strengthening in color towards the north end. "Sun." was my response. He talked with the architect, with the proper people on the school board; they all opposed my opinion - the sun's rays could not possibly reach that canvas because of the structure of the school. Marvin returned to tell me what others thought. I pointed to the spot of sunlight glowing on the fireplace stone; it came in the west windows, lit up a spot on the rug under a glass table, and, from that glass, the light bounced up onto the face of the fireplace. The mural was the most faded at the south end which had been the longest subjected to the reflected sun from early spring on to the strongest colors at the north end left behind by the shortening days of fall. When the mural had been hung, Joe and Jay collected the strips of canvas which had been trimmed away. When play was over, I had taken those strips, rolled them tightly together, and placed them in a drawer - away from dust and light. One day on my way to Ann Arbor, the strips were left behind hung on a door knob of the Beerbaum house; they with their bright and vibrant colors were mute evidence of the work of the sun. Marvin repainted the mural, matching the year old colors with a new palette. The mural glowed again; that was a work of love. The school hung drapes across the west windows to cut down the amount of reflected light from a white terrazzo floor. I watched the mural each time I went to school to vote; I must return soon to see how well that mural is surviving. Do today's people draw the drapes against the sun? Marvin Beerbaum can no longer repaint his work.

Maybe it was that fancy beginning and the fact that the school was named 'Harlan' that created problems there for Jay and Jeanne. Jay and his father had their own school problems. Jay, at the time of the dedication, was being pushed about in a wheelchair and he quite accurately told everyone that it was 'father' who had broken his leg. Some time later Jay was moved into a problem class. Children in one of the classes had been encouraged, by the attitude in their homes, to give their teacher neither respect nor obedience; the teacher and the class were simply falling apart. When Jay was moved into that class, C. Allen objected to all the powers that existed. I knew that Jay was there to provide stability; his presence was expected to have a quietening influence. I should judge that Jay's influence on his classmates was greater than theirs' on him. I have neverasked him if he had any problems with that shift.

Finally the children were all in the Cranbrook Schools. Benefits came from attendance there. The Kresge Foundation sponsored a program in high schools to test the eyes of students. John had struggled against near-sightedness, always keeping his grades at a respectable level in spite of his problem. It was suggested that we have his eyes tested; that was the beginning of our acquaintance with Dr. Rudimann. John's eyes were tested and glasses prescribed. As Dr. Rudimann worked over John's problem, he told John and me just what a problem child John was; John and I looked at one another and smiled. Dr. was drawing the picture of many children but not of John. Then Joyce's problem, a slack eye muscle, was noticable and had definitely affected her early learning progress; surgery took care of that. Joe's dream was to return to Hawaii with glasses and see the island in focus; some day he may go back but the island will have changed. I knew that I was near-sighted; but C. Allen was not. Everyone was watched.

Youthful reactions to Cranbrook/Kingswood were different as could be expected. The children had problems with their contemporaries. No one knew their mother; secondly C. Allen was given no great consideration because he was southern and a Democrat. I often come to a slow boil about that because most of the people looking down on C. Allen were the children of come-latelies to America and many had made their places in life on the coat-tails of their fathers. Mike Kasarda, Bethany trustee, later confirmed my thinking by telling me that that was a point which had often bothered C. Allen so much that he had talked about it with Mike. Jeanne could not stand the Cranbrook boys who were her age since she was accustomed to sharing activities with her older brothers and their friends. Probably those mawkish eighth and ninth grade boys have grown up......into mawkish men? Joe and his friends did have a good time. They took to doing stop-photography with a movie camera and ended by showing a film which involved school masters as well as students. During that time, trying to make a series of an auto driving over the camera, they placed the camera in the road and drove the car right over the camera. That should have been quite a picture. Some one must still have that film and the correct size projector; I still have the camera. It would be fun to see that film again.

It took John to his eighteenth year to get to college; then everyone followed in proper sequence. John attended the U. of M. engineering school and took his degree there with honors. Son,Campbell, spent most of five years wandering around the catalogues of Cornell, reading much, learning some and leaving with no degree. Joyce, attended the U. of M. School of Education, had her certificate allowing her to teach in Michigan; then she was hired by the school system of Garden Grove, California and found that she needed additional work in areas not required at home. Jim entered Michigan State after earning an indifferent record at Cranbrook; he passed his MSU entrance exams with an exceptional score. Jim's first two years at Cranbrook were excellent; then he had decided that the subjects being taught would have no meaning to his future life. The Masters called me for a conference. I said that Jim was my retarded child: born a hundred years too late to be the individualist which he was; born a hundred years too early for the school systems to make allowances and arrangements for the exceptional child. When Jim took his exams at State, no one was aware that he was the son of a MSU trustee. He entered the college on the basis of his own capability - which capability caused him to drop out early because he and friend, John Shufelt, were ready to be business men. (Business men at 20? Their first year they made a hundred twenty thousand dollars - that was the story from C. Allen; I believe.) Joe studied architecture in Ann Arbor. Jay followed him, seeking a teaching certificate for he was interested in working with the very young, giving them the inspiration and the start which every youngster needs. The army set Jay to teaching; he became disillusioned by the impossibility of teaching anything to some people. Most of the men stationed in Germany qualified as 'some' people. When his service was over, the need for teachers was limited. Jeanne was interested in pursuing advanced schooling in Boston; she soon returned to enter Wayne State to study art; she is now largely self-taught. As I have always suspected - Robert Burns was right: "the best laid schemes of mice and men gang aft agley"

Photography has been a hobby of John, Jim, Joe and Jay since the first camera came home for John. What had once been a very special train room (John had laid out track for the Lionels so that several trains could move on the tracks following a variety of patterns without accident, all controlled from one panel - only some one with an exceptional knowledge of electricity could have done that!) was converted to expand the small dark room that John had built into a area in which he, Joe and Jay could work with an enlarger and with color. There are still wonderful photographs about that they have taken; Jay has interesting pictures taken during his time in Germany. The whole wonderful expensive time-consuming rewarding activity began when John asked for his camera in order to take photos of his contemporaries at school affairs; he asked for and was given a Graflex. He took pictures of the school parties, developed them, had them back to school the next day to sell. Finally Harvey Cruze, Cranbrook photographer, asked John to stop; it a was matter of Harvey's job and of who got the cash. 'Take all the classes that you want, John, but school pictures are my territory.'

All during this time of growth, C. Allen and I had been learning things that were never in the text books, he in his business, I in mine. (You never knew that I had a business! Motherhood is the most enterpreneurally demand of all businesses - a daily 24 hours on call.) Following our early decision to put extra money into education, C. Allen had been making yearly gifts to Wayne State University; since HEC was based in Detroit on the Lodge Highway, Wayne State was the logical choice. There were many young people in the city who did not have the funds to attend one of the larger universities, who had to live at home, who needed help; they got it. There always will be such people; there always will be such help. Robert Harrington assures me that that is true even today with all of the IRS tax changes for it is in the best interest of large corporations to give so as to encourage the young student.

C. Allen was the head of the newly formed Channel 56 for thirteen years. During that time, he worked closely with Father Steiner of the University of Detroit, Marygrove and Detroit's School Board. The early years of any organization are difficult. Classes were organized which would give credit to students finishing the requirements; hours on the air were limited. C. Allen gave it all that he could. His reward was working with Father Steiner and the U. of D.; Father gave C. Allen an honorary doctorate - well earned, the difficult way.

I recall the time that we were attending some function; it was announced that Father Steiner was going to Germany. C. Allen knew that Father Steiner was a Jesuit and decided that the priest would have no pocket money to take with him. So he asked me what money I had; only that week's pay-check. Allen took it and signed it over to Father. I wonder what Father Steiner actually did with that check. I know that my funds were shorted for no replacement was given me. But our rewards were other than cash. We were privileged to attend uncounted graduations - which is a privilege only for the privileged.

In Michigan, Boards members of tax-supported colleges are elected. It is possible for a university president to chose a replacement only when a trustee is not able to finish his term. C. Allen, being of a political turn of mind, had expressed, to Governor Williams and to Neil Staebler (the party boss), his interest in serving as a trustee of Wayne State, since he had a financial commitment there. The powers, who ran the party, promised him the next opening on the Wayne board. It came and it went; there was some one else to whom they could not deny the chair. To sooth C. Allen's hurt feelings the next opening on the Michigan Board was promised him. Promises! Promises! Before that opening occurred, Dr. John Hannah called from Lansing to ask C. Allen to accept his invitation to join State's board. Dr. Hannah was losing the only business man he had on the board; he had spoken with Governor Williams and John Sweeny, then William's Secretary; they, all three, agreed that C. Allen would be the right man. Hannah knew that, if the filling of that chair went to a public vote or that if the Governor or his staff were relied upon to make the selection, an appointee would be a political person and would not qualify as a replacement for the man who was retiring. Dr. Hannah called C. Allen and asked three times. I finally said to Allen: "Education is greater than either political party; it is greater than any single university; education has no limits. (It must be for all time.) Do accept Dr. Hannah's invitation." He did and that was the beginning of many years of close association.

Dr. Hannah arranged that C. Allen and I should have dinner with the deans of the several colleges. Dr. Atwood Varner, our host for that dinner, asked if we had any questions; dead silence from C. Allen and me. Finally I said: "Ignorance knows no questions." Why is it that, like olives, after the first question is out, the rest come easily. Any question will do: what time is it? which way did he go? do you think there will be rain soon? (That had been established at a dinner meeting before one of the Economic Club luncheons; Mrs. Bork later told me that my questions were always a great help at opening an evening's conversation. A simple mind can always find a simple question.) The deans began to talk, each one about his college. Then C. Allen could ask questions. It was just a nice way of introducing the Harlans to the deans and their departments to us. It really didn't matter what anyone's opinion was. Dr. Hannah had invited; Mr. Harlan had accepted. We had an acquaintance who was certain that no one served on a college board without weighing the benefits for him/herself. That C. Allen gave more than he received, I am positive. Dr. Hannah was right: if the choice had been left up to the electorate or to the governor, the choice would have been political. Everyone on that board was a democrat with commitments, first to self, second to party, then to the bread and butter job, and, if there was space and time to spare, to the university - the choice of last resort. Many of the members of that Board were 'some' people! C. Allen was the exception; his dedication was to education.

Of course, it was fun to enjoy luncheons at the Kelloge Center before football games, to sit in Dr. Hannah's box and have a running commentary on the game (I learned more football from that elevated height!). I remember Mr. Mott (GM's Mr. Mott - he had more money than anyone else; as a matter of fact his son is in New York spending it on non-profits), being there for luncheon one day, bowing low, and presenting Mrs. Hannah with a bird-of-paradise, from his hot-houses....in a half-pint milk bottle. I recall sitting one day with Sarah Hannah at Cowles House and discussing phone service. My opinion was that a phone was a dictator: it rang; you answered. Just then the Hannah phone rang; she sat and looked at me and wondered if she should answer it or not - of course, she did. Then there was the dinner to meet some special people, when during the conversation, Dr. Hannah stepped into the kitchen, returned to roll three blue eggs across the cloth. Dr. had some South American hens that laid eggs with blue shells - no Easter bunny there. But one had to drive many miles, attend many functions, listen to many speeches, make many decisions against the pressure of those on the Board who were of the opposite persuasion, give time, give effort, give advice, and outright powerful financial help. C. Allen was dedicated to education. He knew how his self-sought and self-taught education had helped him.

Driving to Lansing, during those years, was up old 2 and 3 lane Grand River. The trip could be long, arduous, and dangerous. C. Allen often left home at five on a foggy morning because meetings started at seven; John Hannah knew how to keep his Board working. Some times we stayed over night in the Kellogg Center. One afternoon, I was told to meet C. Allen at Novi, pick him up and drive the balance of the way to East Lansing. The weather was not fit for man or beast. I drove, one wheel off the road for traction, straining to see, picked him up and drove on to Hannah's while he catnapped beside me. To be sure, I had had a lazy day at home with nothing to do. Believe that and you will believe anything!

After Matilda Wilson made the gift of her estate and three million dollars to MSU, Allen's connection with that school was automatic. Woody Varner was named Chancellor. Having worked with C. Allen during Board meetings in East Lansing, it was natural that Woody should turn to the MSU's nearest trustee for help and advice. There was much planning done ahead of time in East Lansing: there were many silver shovels of earth to be turned, many people to be involved, all of the factors of good repute to be established. It was a busy time filled with many decisions which had to be the right ones. Woody Varner was a knowledgeable administrator who took advantage of being situated in the midst of the automotive area to find the people and the power to start the activities of the new college. People were complimented to be included in the work plans. As a branch of MSU, Oakland did well. And at every turn, there was Matilda Wilson to consult for this space had been her home; its good reputation would be her's.(There is something about good reputations - they depend on the actions of so many people.)

After gathering a core of administrators and teachers, building class rooms and administration buildings, one had to create a reputation built upon the needs of the community and its culture. The Music Festival was first, beyond the basic necessities, to be organized and the Detroit Symphony was promised a summer home. Mrs. Wilson selected the spot for the music shell; the Baldwins contributed the money for the service area; the ground was turned and C. Allen was put in charge of construction. (Bye the bye, it often appears that a trustee has nothing to do except mind his trusteeship.) The Meadowbrook Theater was formed, an Englishman, once teacher and director at the Royal Academy (it was said) was hired. (C. Allen was impressed by this man's reputation; I was convinced that he was the most useless thing on campus. Eventually they got rid of him - every garden patch needs regular weeding.) Ingenuity was in full force; fabrics were bought at K-Mart; washing machines were installed; and the robes and back drops were dyed on the spot. David DiCheria was teaching music at the school; he tried out grand opera in draped areas of large rooms with the audience sitting on folding chairs of some funeral company. The Music Festival still functions; the Theater continues; DiCheria and the opera have moved into Detroit. With Mrs. Wilson's help, other class buildings went up and into use. It is always difficult to attract students to a school that is very new and has no reputation. A diploma from Oakland was backed by the reputation of MSU; the school grew.

One Sunday morning, C. Allen took off in a huff. I had no idea of what I had done or not done; I was only dismayed at being left alone with the children on a Sunday when I could have used an extra parent at home. Extra parenting was not a part of C. Allen's expertise. He went off to church where he introduced himself to Dr. DeWitt Jones and Dr. Perry Gresham. As C. Allen he had a definite 'in' with both gentlemen. With Perry a friendship resulted which lasted until C. Allen's death. Perry eventually accepted the presidency of Bethany College and invited Allen to come onto that Board. (Bethany is not tax-supported and therefore the President is allowed to select the members of his Board with the approval of other Board members.) That was an association which C. Allen long enjoyed. Those were struggling years for the an old college situated in the panhandle of West Virginia. West Virginia was poor and the college was poorer. Under Perry's sure administration the college established itself more firmly, enhanced its reputation, grew financially more secure, and expanded academically. Perry knew where the bottom line was and what to do about it; he knew, too, the people who could help him.

Flying home after one meeting, C. Allen was given an absolutely firm stock market tip, acted upon it, gave the money to Bethany - which was only fair. Today, because of that money, Bethany has a girls dormitory which carries my name 'Ivabell Campbell Harlan'. Who could properly have put the girls to sleep under a man's name? The friendship of these two men benefited them both; and I have pleasant memories.

I remember the many visits to Pendleton Heights. I do not know if C. Allen and I were invited or if C. Allen simply assumed. He would arrive with me in tow, announce his arrival and move into the guest rooms at this old inefficient house. It was a beautiful house and, probably, it has as many memories of the wonderful families who have lived there as I have of 3535. Its plumbing andits kitchen were antiquated; updating was tried but any kind of reform could only do a partial job. Student help was available to give Aleece Gresham the extra hands she needed; often that student help was woefully unaware of the niceties of life and needed patient training.

There were so many wonderful people to meet there for Perry and Aleece seemed to know everyone. The Bruckers were there when he, once governor of Michigan, was Secretary of the Army; Mrs. Brucker sequestered herself behind an camera safe from any socialproblems. We spent pleasant time with Roy Rogers and Dale Evans; the elucidating conversation covered the style of women's clothes, especially the shoes which they wore. She defended herself claiming that her high heels were the only ones which she could buy; probably so. They were the couple who had adopted a whole covey of children from different races. C. Allen stopped by their ranch, on one trip west, and came home to report that they were having problems now that the children had reached marriageable age. I have used that reference during Childrens' Aid meetings when some one was all for mixing up humanity so that we will be all alike. Funny people! That is what they assumed would happen. No matter how they try, the genes and Friar Mendel will have their way. Stanley and Dorothy Kresge were there; he was to deliver the commencement address; she was to sit with me and swelter in the summer heat. Bethany is situated in a hollow; gentle hills surround it so that a breeze can only reach campus after making proper arrangements. Stanley and C. Allen, walking back to Pendleton Heights from the activities, wilting in the warmth, looked at one another, said no word, shed robes and jackets and lay down in the shade of a tree. There are pleasant memories.

It was Leonard Simons who introduced C. Allen to the Brandeis people. Brandeis was the first university to be organized by the Jewish people with the intent that it should set exceptional standards for its pupils and that it should serve all peoples. The campus of an older school in the Boston metropolitan area had been bought; a teaching staff was recruited; students were arriving. Now an alumni body was needed to give the new college support. President Abraham Sacher was touring the country to speak at gatherings; from the response to Dr. Sacher's appeal, it was expected that an 'alumni' body and gifts would result. The evenings were successes, just as Leonard Simons had anticipated; Dr. Sacher and C. Allen were delighted to meet one another. Justice Brandeis had followed the first Justice John Marshall Harlan on the Supreme bench and had agreed with that gentleman's opinion that 'Justice is color blind'. Then three chapels were planned for the campus - a Jewish Synagogue, a Catholic church and, if Mr. Harlan would be willing to head a drive for the money, a Protestant church, named for the first Justice John Marshall Harlan. The entire Jewish community was enthusiastic about 'their' one and only university, gave it their support, their time, their money and that of their friends. Funding the Synagogue was no problem; there were immediate monies for the Catholic edifice; but the Protestants were another matter for they are always protesting that 'their' way is best. I really do not know who has paid the last bills for the John Marshall Harlan chapel. We attended the dedication; Justice and Mrs. Harlan came up from Washington. We even toyed with the idea of renting an entire plane to take Joyce's wedding party to Brandeis so that her service could take place in the John Marshall Harlan chapel. Because of C. Allen's contribution, he was named 'fellow' and we had the usual invitations to various functions in New York and -Boston. We watched the growth of that school. The life of a university president is mostly one of travel and money raising. Thelma Sacher told me that there are people who have made a contribution and then expected that the college would give them housing whenever they came to Boston; some of those people have even hunted up the Sacher's off campus home. For special guests, the college was finally given a fine old home near the school. Maybe that helped Mrs. Sacher. (So sympathy for Aleece Gresham and Sarah Hannah who lived in houses on campus; Ruth and Clarence Hilbery lived in a convenient sized apartment that Wayne State supplied - no room at that inn.)

Our involvement with the University of Tennessee was not at the board level although C. Allen and I were put up in President Andrew Holt's home in a sumptuous set of rooms large enough to hold the average two bedroom house. C. Allen had studied under an instructor in the engineering school, Dr. Daugherty, of whom C. Allen became very fond. When that instructor, since becoming professor, was retirering, C. Allen made the usual contribution with the result that we came to know Andy and Martha Holt. Andy Holt on his trips to Detroit stayed with us. Andy once came north to speak to a gathering of school principals; no problem. Andy Holt was always an interesting speaker who was much in demand. Every principal at that head table, when introduced, took advantage of the moment to make a 'few' remarks. The end result was that Andy was left with five minutes to speak. People will make hay when ever they can. Those principals were all politicians.

The scholarship gift to the University of Michigan was given to honor retiring trustee Dr. Charles Kennedy, the doctor who had taken care of Joyce so well when she was so little. We knew when Doctor's last board meeting would be. It was Bill Stirton who had made all of the arrangements, who had told Dr. Hatcher what was to happen and who set the stage. The plans included John and Joyce being there. When Joyce was approaching Dr. Hatcher in order to introduce herself and make the presentation, which was her job, Dr. Kennedy seeing her coming started up to speak to her; Harlan Hatcher just moved between them, introduced Joyce to the trustees and then stepped aside so that Joyce could present the check to her dear Doctor. That was the first time ever that a living man had been so honored. There were tears in many eyes.

(That was one time that C. Allen did not have anything to say and I do not know how he restrained himself for he was so proud of Joyce, of John, and of Dr. Kennedy.) The mail carried much joy to Doctor Kennedy during years after that presentation for every recipient of scholarship help wrote to thank him; he carried his joy to C. Allen, who brought it home.

Perhaps of all the gifts to smaller colleges, the most special thanks came from Fisk College of Nashville Tennessee. Fisk was renowned for its choral groups. Board meeting and a birthday of C. Allen coincided; a special 'happy birthday' was sung and recorded for C. Allen. Some time later, brother Bob, having become acquainted with some of the engineers who had graduated from Fisk and having worked with them, said that they had a more difficult time than he to make progress in their world as it was then. That was far distant from the mythology which C. Allen had first brought north.

Of course, last of all and important to us has been our involvement with Cranbrook. My original intent was that our children should benefit from the special class system of the Cranbrook schools, that they should attend as day-students for they were first of all our children; we moved to Birmingham. As the children worked through the grades, Allen and I became acquainted with the Academy of Art. A donation from the Harlan Foundation put the Foundation name on the museum wall with the names of other donors - august company. We bought our art education (I some years later told and accrediting committee) a piece at a time; indeed we did; neither C. Allen nor I had had any 'art' training at school. There were, in the early years, sales on the lawn when the ceramists were preparing to leave for home and the amount of work done was an expensive weight to move; there were sales and shows at Christmas time; there were pieces available from the last show of the academic year. Buying student work is not a profitable business for no one can tell, beyond a guess, just which students will make the masterpieces. Slowly, C. Allen and I began to select the three dimensional pieces; from my point of view it was easier to pick and choose. All that we bought had the virtue of assisting a student. The majority of the students were poor as church mice; money received was money re-invested in material for another try. I can think of only two who came from monied backgrounds: Winifred Clark and Donald Douglass. Our purchases are here, were given to sons and daughters, or were used as gifts for people who enjoyed or wondered why. Modern art can do that to you. Ceramics have the virtue of breaking on occasion; nothing else does, although Jeanne assures me that modern paintings will self-destruct in fifty years. (A blessing.) C. Allen and Vic Drummond took advantage of the classes in gem polishing which were given at the Institute of Science; Allen met Toshiko Takaezu in such a class. One thing about an art academy student, he is free to wander about the classes that the institutions present. Each art student may have a major in one field; you may find a piece of his work in some other medium. All ideas were as fluid. One could find an idea surfacing in one department and then adjusting to the materials of another. Although every Academy student came with his Bachelor degree, expertise was not commonly on display; this was, after all, a teaching institution where masters instruct and try to shape in order to develop the student's potential. Every sale time, C. Allen wanted to be leaning on the doors so that he could have first choice. We had only inklings of student reaction to our interest. Last April, John Glick wrote me this: (I copy)

"I recall the nearly legendary stories told of exhibits at the Academy when the Harlans would come and show that wonderful caring by purchasing student works. I recall how amazed and honored we felt when that happened. I am very sure that that kind of caring did help many young artist find courage to carry forward the beginnings gained at Cranbrook." How that would have delighted C. Allen.

For Cranbrook it has been a business, not only of educating students but also, of educating an entire community. Early shows had no prices on the pieces for sale; a container was provided into which the buyer could drop the money or his check. The results were very disappointing for one evening a rug was taken home; twenty-five dollars was the largest check deposited. Talking with Richard Thomas, master of the Metal Shop, I suggested that the buyer seldom had any concept of the time required to design, to make, or the cost of the material used, that it might help Detroit if the man hours and the cost of the materials were listed. These sales turned into auctions which were profitable. The alabaster sculpture, which I have, sold for twelve hundred dollars because Henry Booth was competing with C. Allen. I am certain that Herny Booth had no more need of that piece than C. Allen did. More ways than one to skin a cat. Students now have instructions in pricing as part of their training and the prices now depend upon many things rather than on an educated guess. In this way C. Allen continued his education and continued helping students. At Cranbrook the contact was more direct, especially after C. Allen accepted a place on that Board.

Slowly our area of interest narrowed to the departments of ceramics and metal smithing; three dimensional, as you can plainly see. I do have remaining a large collection of student pots with a few notable ones of Toshiko Takaezu and of Maja Grotel. Pots of these two ceramists may sell well for their reputations are well established; they will sell best in this area near Cranbrook or Finland for Maja Grotel; for Toshiko's work, the possible sales area will be greater. The others are of little value except as examples of student work. From metal smithing have come many pieces of jewelry of varying value; again most of it is of interest only as student work. The family has bought many pieces of Stanley Lechtzin. Since he is a member of Goldsmiths Hall in London, England, their value may have increased and the probable area of interest may have enlarged.

It was Richard Thomas who gave C. Allen some of the most interesting years of his life. C. Allen refused to accept the idea that he could do more than basic work with his hands; it is my feeling that, individually, we each need an avocation. As children, we each needed to be taught how to play. It was Richard Thomas who showed C. Allen that he could make things of beauty and how to make them. Auctioneer Norman Levy, business man James Howarth and C. Allen began helping Dick Thomas hunt through the second-hand machine market to find things which would be helpful to Dick's department. The result of their association was the organization of the 'Harchers', men who were interested in working in the metal shop, learning some of the skills which Thomas could teach, and helping that department in many ways. Tuesday evenings were spent at Cranbrook, working and counting 'Hup, one, two, three' from work spot to work spot - Harchers. I know that C. Allen thoroughly enjoyed. I have a copper vase which was his first accomplishment; Jeanne has one of the two toasting cups which he made for her wedding. (Departed Jim Kleinsorge has the other one.) For the metal shop, beside the old/new machinery which they have, Howarth gave them gem stones, and Harlan gave them money. It was the combined help of all the Harchers that made possible the trips to England which Thomas was able to arrange for his students - students free, wives/husbands paid their own way. A visit to London gave the opportunity to explore the parts of the continent on their own and then for the last week settle down to study the craft in London. It was a visit to schools, to met local artists, to see studios. Above all else, it was a visit to Goldsmiths Hall to give the Cranbrook metalsmiths an opportunity to see and to study the finest of work. C. Allen never was able to go with them. I went once; I enjoyed every bit of that trip. Richard Thomas was an exceptional master, because of him the metal-smithing department has developed an outstanding reputation; many of his students' theses, many of the drawings of the original plans which were created under the inspiration of Dick Thomas are now in the Smithsonian.

Whenever Cranbrook, needing to raise money, was asking alumni for contributions for any of its sales, the metal smiths gave the most. A metal smith's work is expensive in material and time. No other department has ever responded as well as Dick Thomas's students have.

As I was breaking up the house at 3535, I laid out all of the nuts, bolts, bits, and pieces which the years accumulated, all of the tools which C. Allen gathered while working with the Harchers; they were spread out on the north window sill on and the pool table. I called Dick Thomas and invited him to come and take first; he came with some of his students and cleared everything away. He and students returned the next day, took the pool table apart and carried it off. So one of my major problems of moving was easily solved and almost everything is being used in the metal shop. What the shop could not use and the students did not need, Dick Thomas sold. The old pool table was assembled in the school's recreation room to take the place of the rented table that the Museum budget could no longer afford. There is often value remaining in the old.

So now, C. Allen's education has ended. Mine? A new phase.