16 March 1957 – Saturday

Saturday morning, and I have been rereading some of my recent posts. My! Have I been in a rage!

Yesterday, after reading about the Chicago prosecutors calling for a murder charge against all the kids involved in the slaying of the 17-year-old Negro boy made me heartsick about the whole affair. What a world we live in. I am planning to resign from the human race – I’d rather be a member of the dog family.

After pacing up and down mentally over the Chicago murder affair, I finally completed my article on What’s a Good Mother and sent it to the American weekly. Where I got the strength to finally do this? If it is good, if it is finally published, I know it was from a guiding wisdom – the Master Creator and Designer.

How I wish I could do more, could do better.

Well if it is meant to be, it will be. I kind of feel my future days sort of hang in the balance in so far as the bent of my days will take. If my article is accepted and published, I know what my work will be. If not I can still try, because that trying is the spirit that moves me. If at first you don’t succeed – try, try again!

Billy is up and walking around upstairs, so I might stop by writing.

I do want to record here Mrs. Hachen’s class discussion about the 1, 5, 10, dollar bills in Nancy’s social studies class. Also, Billy’s accounting of Bud (?) Adams key club business and his gambling and horse betting with the money Bud earns as a library page. Oh! Dear me. Bud’s mother has been driving Bill partway home. Bill thinks she was a former librarian. Also, I do not know whether young Adams has a father in his home picture. I hope to learn more about this later.

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Bill’s gone over to Tom’s and the shoemaker to get inner souls for his engineer boots.

I called Elmer about the Control by Parents Bill re guns. How ridiculous can human beings get? They are now hoping to put parents in jail for 30 days if youngster under 17 carries a gun. (YMCA public relations right – where are you? How about your American Rifle Club program?)* So, parents they want to make liable until the kid’s 17 re a gun – then at 18 he goes into the Army (drafted if you please) to learn to shoot people up. Yes sir!

I’m planning to resign from the human race. I wonder if the dog family will consider a human being eligible for membership. Personally if Ira self-respecting dog, I wouldn’t allow humans to taint my dog breed.

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How is the parent expected to keep any sanity in the parents cranium? I’m going completely Daffy about the idea of sitting on an isolated rock contemplating my toes and bellybutton.

[* The reference here is to a National Rifle Association program at the Aspinwall Branch of the YMCA on Saturday Mornings. We (some of my friends and I) would ride the Cleveland Transit System (CTS) public busses to the “Y” carrying our .22 rifles in cases on the bus to go target shooting in the gym at the YMCA. wfz]

14 March 1957

This morning I am in a fighting mood. I want to stamp my feet, punch something – scream!! People, including businessmen, laborites, and politicians – especially politicians!! Who-oo! Sheep, that’s what people are – SHEEP!!! A herd stampeding!! Someone cracked the whip – and the stampede is on!! We can even sell $500 modern art books at Eldred Hall!!! Someone must’ve said – modern art is the ultra-in artistic!! Drop Daduh [sic]!! Some are saying – the budget is too high? Outcome all the political hatchet men to individually shot to pieces all budgets. Oh–h–h!!!! Laotian almost looks like a hero, even if he, too, is a stupid politician. At least is not a sheep!!

All we have in this big glorious U.S. is many, many sheep!! SHEEP!!!

These brains are so atrophied from personal disuse the capacity for adult thinking is an anachronism!! Anyone who does use that hunk of gray matter under his skull runs the risk of being trampled under the stampeding herd!!!!

We are so used to seeing people in masses – like the modern art artists; we are so sold on the faceless mass of humanity, we worship at the altar of facelessness.

Where are the artists of all kinds who can see clearly the human being under the hat in a jam-packed subway of New York when four tall men squeeze all but his hat from view?

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Oh–h–h!!!! Oversize athletes, dirty racketeers, gamblers setting up phony athletic games and horse betting races, while children go to ballparks to see their highly esteemed fathers slobbering up liquor and spilling beer over their children and ballparks! Kids – don’t talk to me about kids – grown-ups set the examples!!

Mrs. Branchik never knew what a tremendous truth she uttered at the Den Mother’s meeting.

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Quoting A. P. Giannini founder 1870 to 1949 Bank of America from this bank’s annual report 1956”

“I think what I am most proud of is anything I may have done to help with the humanization of banking. Space. Space. I do business that way because I believe business can be transacted more quickly and satisfactorily if it is done humanly and simply. What is business – banking business or any other kind of business? Isn’t it fundamentally the mutual fulfillment of material human needs? And isn’t the whole structure of modern business based on the trust people have in each other?”

Well said, Mr. Giannini – too bad there are so many people who think business is some sterile process, statistical, and robotlike manufactured for the supreme effort to making more greenbacks, forgetting that money, like labor, is a medium of exchange to fulfil human wants, not frivolities!! for the benefit of a power-hungry Midas.

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10 March 1957

In “McDermott on Broadway” in today’s plain dealer McDermott quotes from “The Later Ego”, (a book) by the distinguished London critic James Agate. The quote is regarding the distinction between farce and comedy. Agate has this definition in his book:

“May I say that I have invented a rule which works for me, though I can find no authority for it and play none. Set down in simple terms the rule is: comedy treats of unreal persons in real situations; farce deals with real persons in unreal situations.”

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Went to the flower show today and met Mr. J. R. Watt[s?], secretary of the Cleveland garden center – Cleveland Audubon Society – assistant to Secretary of the Interior McKay – I’m not quite sure all what. He is interested in quail [?] legislation. He is 77 years old and a man full of interesting things to tell. I wish I could remember all the subjects he touched upon. But, it is evening now and I am a little tired. Maybe more [of?] the conversation than I think will remain with me. I’ll write about this again, I hope. He said he would send me tickets on some pictures of Africa. Well – later, on all this. It was the best hour or two of interesting conversation I’ve had in a long time, but time was of the essence.

Upon taking down some of the items pinned on our calendar to remember, I found the following I had written in some sad moment. Perhaps I’m repeating myself here, but I have to chuck some of these past papers off the calendar to make room to pin new items.

“Rain is good, tears are too; just so they lead to a good life of rainbows and sunshine.”

P.S. Mr. J. R. Watt mailed me the tickets with a very nice note. Kurt and I for sure want to go to Monday night. The kids will [too?] – if no homework.

7 March 1957

A good person who is blind to the ways of human motivation lets himself in for unhappy disillusionment. For instance, if Eisenhower is a truly dedicated person with his heart truly in the right place, but blind to the politics around him – he is bound to be disillusioned and hurt whenever his most honest intentions are deliberately twisted away from his intent.

You have to be aware of the rogue within you – that is the potential beast within each one of us to understand the rogue in others.

It isn’t that people in glass houses should not throw stones; the fact is people who live in glass houses are often the very first ones to cast those same stones.

One must understand evil, the possibilities of evil, in order to recognize evil. With understanding comes the ability to cope better with an evil situation.

Why, it is so simple really.

Still the best intentioned person in the world is absolutely ineffective unless he has her she has a comprehension of the simple facts.

Talk about the temptation of St. Anthony! I started to think – I never actually read the temptation of St. Anthony – that I knew it only by title, but that isn’t true. I did read a long time ago, during my early growing years. I don’t remember what the contents of the book was, I only remember the title – but I did read this book.

What brought all this thinking about this morning? The extra postage stamps the clerk at the drugstore handed me and some strong sensual feelings I didn’t share with Kurt because I told myself he would not be interested. He was fast asleep, and I made myself believe he needed the sleep after staying up late to see Shaw’s “The Millionaires” at Eldred Hall last night – and that he had to work all day with little sleep.

The thought his father to the deed. Conscientious people drive themselves silly because they think the thought is the deed. The actual reality has often nothing to do with it in “fait accompli” or however you say it.

The saying goes “it takes a thief to catch a thief”. It also takes a kindly understanding heart to catch a kindly understanding heart.

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Men, running a so-called “man’s” world, are under the mistaken conception that the sacrifices men make are the only sacrifices of real value.

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If there were real value there would be no sacrifice!! What kid ever felt a feeling of sacrifice when spending a penny earned, for a treasured toy or desired possession, if the child followed a natural unpolluted bent?

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It is only when clean fresh streams are polluted with disease carrying particles that people hesitate to swim in them for fear of infections.

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The aristocrat of the breakfast table: Billy was doing a lot of yakking about us “peasants” this morning. Crumbs! Peasants! He recrimination in his ham – did I say “ham” acting. I labeled him “royalty” and he rejected the word anarchist – giving me a definition of the word. He had it down pat. No! – He was an “aristocrat” – very special!!

“Yah!” said I, “Just like Marie Antoinette and you know what happened to her. She said ‘They have no bread? Let them eat cake!’ and the guillotine came down on her head – CHOP!”

The only trouble with me as I do too much talking!!!! My whole – family complains to me – I talk too much!! Not for five minutes do I SHADDUPH!

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From Lowell Thomas Junior’s Lenten guidepost:

Peace be in my home

And in my heart

Or if thou roam

Earth’s highways wide,

The Lord be at thy side,

To bless and guide

Earth’s highways wide.

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In my peaceful home I want the help of the power that created me. I also found my husband a great comfort and my children a necessary ingredient for making life a living thing.

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How nice it was for Mark Schinner’s [sp?] daughter to have a backyard for hoot for her to bring her friends into. How nice of Mark Schinner not to mind about the lawn. Golly – too bad all youngsters don’t have nice backyards.

But there are always playgrounds. I had a big backyard – but no friends in it much. That’s why I liked the Memorial school playground so much better. There was more to do.

 

6 March 1957

The breakfast table chairs were decorated with the dazzle of white shirts and ties this morning – Kurt, Billy, and Nancy.

Of course, Kurt often wears a white shirt. But Billy and Nancy were all slicked up [too] for Honor Roll assembly at Collinwood this morning first and second period. Nancy wore her ruffled carioca blouse that Francis Klein gave her for Christmas, and Bill for the first time wore his Christmas tie from Timmy and Greg. Bill commented he thought he’d give Miss Axline a break. (He meant walk into the library this afternoon with a tie on. He wasn’t quite sure the head librarian would stand the shock of seeing her library page saunter up dressed up with soup and fish!)

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Seems at the rehearsal yesterday Nancy did not understand she was to come up on stage when her name was called. She thought her name was being called to see if she were present. She kept raising her hand higher and higher, until the caller said, “We want you up here.”

Billy kidded her when he saw her at home. “How shall I face my friends!!” he exaggerated, mimicking!

Oh! Kids!

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Gary Moore (Lenten Guides, P. D.)

Quotes a Chinese wisdom: “The enemy is best defeated who is defeated with kindness.”

He goes on to say kindness isn’t softness. If it is it doesn’t cure anything at all. Tells the story of Ling making slurring remarks about Wong’s restaurant. Wong says: “Oh, I’m sure you must have misunderstood. Wong couldn’t possibly have said that. He’s too genuinely kind.”

Ling Toy was flabbergasted when he heard about this. Ling meant to be slurring. Ling could not stand up to Wong’s policy very long. – The two became friends.

Wong showed Gary Moore, back in the kitchen, a Chinese motto which hung there for Wong to see every day: ”The enemy is best defeated who is defeated with kindness.”

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Oh yes! I almost forgot there was something else I meant to enter here – it is about Roman Catholic “confessional booths”.

Confession is good for the soul – this is true. But when the confessional booth is a private matter for the church only, to propagate its own power primarily – it is certainly questionable. The other Christian denominations who do not have confessional booths picking up gossip, rather having ministers who talk with people to guide them as best they can in their sorrows are at a disadvantage.

How to combat this?

Through letters to newspapers. This type of confessional – people’s problems of everyday life and thus be released, aired, and acted upon in the form of public opinion; and something can then be done to improve the lot of all humans regardless of race, color, or creed.

So long as the Roman Catholic confessional box is the only form of release, under the power of that church, it does not serve all. In fact – it is most unchristian, undemocratic and unhuman.

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With the help of my creator, and with the wisdom given me, I do what I can see to do. That’s all anyone can do

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After seeing Walt Disney’s program tonight these conclusions: (it was a program on the story of flight)

In a way the Chinese of years ago – the civilization that Marco Polo found – was a wise civilization – they forbade certain types of invention. Where the Chinese erred, however, was evident in this fashion: they didn’t better the lot of humans in their country.

The Chinese walled off their civilization, while forbidding certain types of knowledge. For instance – they knew of wine, but wine drinking was forbidden, etc. The fact remains, however, China was only a part of our world. As the rest of the world built boats and ventured forth – China remained within its walls. One cannot stem the surging tide of the world of communication and transportation closing in on us. As I watched the story of flight, my conversation with Helen Little this afternoon came back to me.

The world is shrunk so much since aviation, telegraphy, TV, etc. has so rapidly grown, it is no wonder we have so much mental illness. The industrial revolution, communication, transportation, flight has brought men, as I write to McDermott, into every “corner” of the world. Now we want to reach out into the “heavens” – man’s little old mythological, religious, superstitious “heaven”. Science has moved along so rapidly we just seem to have been lifted into the air personality-wise and we poor humans are bumping along personality-wise like the bumpy cross-country cartoons depicted by Walt Disney in his flight story on TV. No wonder human beings have lost their bearings. The pace of the last 100 years has been stepped up so much by invention, science, and mass production that maybe airplanes hold together but man is falling apart mentally.

As I watched Disney tonight I realized even more acutely that we of a generation of yesterday have been living, and will continue to live through tremendous, fast-paced, revolutionary upheavals caused by inventions and mass production.

That we become dizzy and off-center with all this speed of change, there is no doubt about. Our scientists must be directed to the feeling human. Enough of all this invention! It perhaps should not be stopped. Let it go on, but for the love of man’s welfare, it is absolutely urgently necessary to channel some of this brain matter into the human mind for equilibrium. Mental hygiene, social psychology, and social sciences are the tortuous pleading need of our era – an understanding of what is happening to us.

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The young, bless the young, they are growing up with all this. Maybe it will be easier for them, maybe not. If this pace of science and invention carries through our new generation’s lives, we may still end up as a race of mumbling idiotic humans, counting our toes – back to the caveman of millions of years ago.

I am so glad our educational institutions are recognizing the terrific need for the social sciences because they will be humanity’s salvation.

5 March 1957

Oh! So much as happened these last few weeks, I sure have neglected my notebook – but, the [Cleveland] Plain Dealer [newspaper] is writing beautifully. I don’t have to worry about people so much anymore. Mass psychoanalysis – that’s what it is – mass psychoanalysis. Very good for the soul!!

I wish I had more time to relate some of my family events, but letters, letters, and reading have been taking up so much of my time. Contributing my little vote, I tell Kurt.

. . . Last night Nancy informed me the gals at school are buying Cody’s fruit flavored lipsticks at $1.⁰⁰ a crack! They can’t eat candy at school, so they buy this little hunk of candy lipstick for the outrageous price of $1.⁰⁰.

One of the girls, according to Nancy, fairly eats the lipstick when she gets hungry! Wow! I told Nancy it was an expensive little piece of candy. Why didn’t they make chocolate flavored Kleenex, or orange flavored shoes! Nothing like having the kids coming home barefoot after dad shells out up to $14⁰⁰ for a pair of shoes.

I also told her, if the lipstick tasted so good, a gal would never know whether her best heart interest was kissing her because he loved her, or because he didn’t have the price of a hamburger!

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3 March 1957

My family is giving me a hard time! I talk too much on serious subjects. They don’t like it! So – – – back to my notebook – my dear notebooks which let me go on and on and on as long as there are pages and ink. I guess writing is my principal out. I can write what I wish, if not for publication – to release my own thoughts. Such is my fate – to channel my thoughts – to release them on paper – there is nothing else to do.

Attached is an article on the garden show houses – architects with bubble pipes. Some architect – first he dreams up the house – then to find a location on which to build it.

An article my friend, when you learn to write about bubble headed architects who do not deal with the present and what they have – but dream up bubble pipe homes to place – Oh! Yes – no location discovered yet!!

I wonder if there is a code of ethics for architects as there is a code of ethics for lawyers?

House beautiful magazines, too, that make you sick with frustration. The fairytale story tellers of the adult world! – No sense of reality. Escapists all! Just like me – into my notebook with my pen and ink!!!

Also – fathers that go hunting to beagle clubs, church, golf, but who have no time for the boys – girls.

Also – fathers and mothers who spend all their time working for the money tree and buy their kids off and pay the price for the disregard of the responsibilities of parenthood – the Simcics and that the Dodaras – Harold Schrader, Victor, and Stephen.

Just want to scream the truth to them about themselves! Maybe someday I will learn to simmer down and write, really learn how to write! I am over the worst feverishness, but I’m still not completely recovered enough to calm down enough to learn the exacting art of writing!

Man alive, will I ever simmer down to that stage of careful craftsmanship?! I hope!

2 March 1957

These past days have been busy, almost a delirium of activity. The Plain Dealer has been writing splendid reportorial work. The Cleveland Press is still a snarling rag!

My P. D. Was just delivered by Stanley – will write more later, especially about Janie E. Oster and Dunham school and melting pots and Ida Dennis and Mark Schinnerer and Paul Pokhorny and Mrs. Carmen – State Board members of the Ohio State Board of Education.

Later –

Well, after reading my P. D. – The world is in better shape than ever, and, I believe I can go back to this little series of notebooks and my scribblings.

Most interesting to me for the moment to write about this morning is Nancy and Mrs. Smythe – her art teacher.

Mrs. Smythe has been giving Nancy one hell of a time these first few weeks of the semester. Nancy was elected class president and Mrs. Smythe has made a sorry role for Nancy. She’s yelled at Nancy, been unreasonable with her, told Nancy she was no damn good as a president, the class needed a new president, helped Nancy not at all, until Nancy came home and wept with sorrow, anger, and desperation.

Nancy and I have talked the situation over a few times, but the weeping session almost brought out Kurt’s big guns. We were all set to have Kurt give Mrs. Smythe the cool Zachmann going over if she didn’t lay off Nancy, our fine family artist.

I, however, kept hoping Nancy could carry her own ball, so that her victory, if it came, would be Nancy’s alone.

Yesterday afternoon Nancy told this story. Mrs. Smythe picked up a picture drawn by someone in Nancy’s class. Mrs. Smythe took a good look at it and was starting to say: “Why this is beautiful! Who drew this picture?”

Nancy said, “I did.”

After this announcement by Nancy, Nancy said Mrs. Smythe almost choked!

P.S. Nancy tells me Mrs. Smythe gave her two sheets of paper to draw a street scene on instead of all the other youngsters one sheet, as the class filed out of the art class.

Hello! Hum!!

That’s that for the present. Except this two sheets of paper to draw a street scene over the weekend was in lieu of a detention after school for being a bad student. The whole class was supposed to get this detention for talking.

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Zachmannisia just for the day: Cleveland is a melting pot of nationalities? Well – ll – l – let’s say the US is a bigger pot – not only of nationalities, but also of (religions). Maybe I should have written it smaller, like this ( world religions).

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I feel pretty good this morning!