Doug DowdA Letter from Bologna
2009-05-21
Doug Dowd
Bologna, Italia
Dear friends,
This one is meant mostly for those who, over the decades, have been in my classes; including those twerps who have murmured to themselves, “Is the old geezer gonna tell THAT story again?” Answer, this time: “Sort of.”
I begin with a story about 1949, for which (though I doubt it) one or two of you may have been present. And it’s the basis for the letter. It was my first university class — as a professor — at UC Berkeley. Yes, 1949, 60 years ago. (I actually got a late start because of W.W. II. And the G.I. Bill, which allowed me to go to school at Berkeley. So I began teaching as a wizened 30-year-old.)
My debut took place in Wheeler Auditorium. That day the many hundreds of seats in Wheeler Aud. were filled with students taking Econ 1A (along with 15–20 teaching assistants). I was, of course, not at all nervous, having spent some weeks preparing lecture notes for that class and outlines for the entire semester.
It was a one-hour class. I stood at the podium — young and healthy with a stack of notes — and began. I was speaking so fast and loud, the students may have thought I was some kind of verbal machine gun. I riffled my notes and rattled on, Gatling gun mouth ablaze — with a predictable result. After just 15 short minutes, I discovered (to my amazement and developing horror) that I had wrestled through ALL of my notes for ALL of the semester. I stood there open-mouthed with nothing left to read. I remember thinking (although not very creatively, alas): Now what do I do?
The audience — this, my first professional professorial audience — was grinning, laughing, or simply hypnotized. Finally, I stood up very straight and said, ahem, bye-bye, the class is over. The students got up, looked back chattering, and my career was launched with dignity. Always dignity. Yes, that was 60 years ago; my first class.
Yesterday, at the University of Modena, I gave my last class. No stack of notes this time. A rather more measured delivery. I took up all of the time scheduled for the class. And I spent it apologizing to the students if I had seemed to them to be pissed off with capitalism (during my 60 years in front of students).
Pissed off? Not at all, I said; I have been kidding all along. I mean, gawd, I loove capitalism. Love it, love it, love it! I really admire it; always have, always will. Nothing could be finer. I hold stock in AIG and Citigroup. I voted for Bush by mail, I campaigned for Berlusconi on foot. And I even have a photo of (my former San Francisco neighbor) Prof. Milton Friedman on the inside of my toilet lid: I know it’s each for himself and “God” for all, nezpa?
So...it’s been 60 years. Yesterday was the last class because the program in which I have been teaching — for the last eight years — has been cancelled (along with much else in education that is needed, as the long turn backward into up-yours capitalism speeds up and spreads).
I will probably be giving a few talks here and there, but my classroom career is...over.
In case you are wondering, I don’t feel sorry for myself; I feel happy for myself. As some of you know, my name for me is Lucky Louie, not only for having been able to mouth my convictions and prejudices in public all these years, but for having had a very good and lovely life in all ways. I continue to write. (My book on inequality will be published by Pluto Press in September).
Although I don’t intend to create any more books (what is this one, maybe number sweet sixteen?), I am presently caught up in a long article — “The Crime of our Era.” The crime is what has been happening since World War II instead of what could and should have happened. In the article I discuss war and peace, the environment, the economy, poverty, decency...and more. A draft of the piece will be on the website sometime soon.
Meanwhile, kiddies, thanks for being there. Now get to work, stay at work to stop that crime — and reverse it.
Kisses,
Doug
(dougATdougdowdDOTorg)
