The Kindness of a stranger
Your excellent profile of Bill Hewlett (March/April) mentioned the attempted firebombing of his residence by counterculture extremists in 1971. I can provide a pertinent postscript, which may reveal aspects of his extraordinary personality.
Shortly after the firebombing attempt, Bill made one of his visits to the Hewlett-Packard plant near Wilmington, Del., where I was general manager. As usual, I met him at the railroad station. No one ever confused the Wilmington train depot with the Elysian Fields, and therefore, on the night in question, we two coat-and-tie squares walked briskly to my car in the dimly lighted lot. As we started to get in, we noticed an ancient jalopy parked next to us. Two full-fledged hippies were trying to start their cranky vehicle.
Instantly sizing up this dismal situation, which would soon end in a fully discharged battery, Bill asked me if I had tools and a flashlight in my car. Taking off our coats and rolling up our sleeves, we got the necessary items out, walked over to the rattletrap, lifted the hood and found the carburetor hanging helplessly from its connecting lines. We reseated the carburetor and tightened down its loose bolts. Bill called out to the hippie pair and asked them to fire up their machine. Sure enough, the engine started nicely, and they drove off without any acknowledgment. Bill exhibited no need for response.
Here was a brief, anonymous encounter between two divergent cultures in a bleak parking lot, which ended happily for all concerned. We proceeded to my house, cleaned the grease off our hands and went out to dinner to discuss other matters.
Several years ago, I reminded Bill of this obscure event. He had forgotten--but I never will. Could it also have made some kind of unexpected, lasting impression on two young people?
Emery Rogers, '44, PhD '51
Palo Alto, California
The article about William Hewlett was particularly interesting to me because of my own encounter with David Packard, with whom I worked for a couple of weeks in 1942. At that time, Hewlett-Packard consisted of a one-room shack and a small red barn, both located in a field of wild oats near Mayfield (I think it is now called South Palo Alto). Mr. Packard had a desk in the office, and Mrs. Packard was the secretary. In the barn was a long table with benches and a few women building audio oscillators by copying from a model. Mr. Packard thought it would be much better if they had a working drawing to copy from, and I said I'd try to do it. We moved a couple of sawhorses and a sheet of plywood into the office, and I went to work.
I never met Mr. Hewlett, because he was in the Army solving electronic problems. However, I have a feeling that Mr. Packard also had a great deal to do with establishing the HP philosophy, such as producing useful and high-quality equipment and recognizing the importance of employees.
Gardner Locke, '42, MS '47, Engr. '48
Joseph, Oregon
As an HP retiree and Stanford engineer degree-holder, I appreciated Larry Gordon's article about Bill Hewlett. Hewlett and Packard are routinely praised, not just in this article, and they deserve it. As Gordon writes, "Only Leland and Jane Stanford themselves could claim to have figured more prominently in the University's success than these two engineers." Frederick Terman is also rightfully praised. Isn't it interesting than none of these could, by today's standards, be considered for Stanford faculty status, since all lack earned PhDs? Times do change.
I do have one bone to pick. You state that Hewlett and Packard joined forces in 1938 "while still working toward engineering degrees." At this time, they were working for engineer (Engr.) degrees. When the editors of STANFORD misunderstand this degree--a step beyond the ms and requiring a thesis--perhaps it is time to rename it. As a holder of the degree, I am sensitive to repeatedly explaining it.
Paul Baird, Engr. '59
Green Valley, Arizona
WORDS ON BIRDS
I enjoyed Don Kennedy's article on campus birds and birding (March/April) but was surprised that a fine piece of writing by John Bayse Price, '28, ma '29, PhD '37, was given no mention. His Familiar Birds of the Stanford Campus (Stanford University Press, 1931; 2nd edition, 1954) lists 71 birds found on the campus in those days and describes his observations of 23 of his favorites. Price's descriptions of suggested bird walks give the reader a clear depiction of the nature of the campus in the 1930s. I found it to be delightful reading.
Allan McLean, '57
Santa Cruz, California
Don Kennedy's birding stroll was a revelation. I can't wait to unlimber my field glasses on campus. However, I was surprised to notice that Kennedy (or the editors) neglected to honor the convention of capitalizing the common bird names--e.g., Acorn Woodpecker.
Brian Adams
Reno, Nevada
Editor's note: Following Associated Press style, we opted for the less formal lowercase.
MYSTERY SOLVED
It seemed so obvious. As I circled the freshly snow-covered campus early that morning, I came upon the Oval. It begged for something.
Armed with only my tennis shoes, I kicked and dragged snow to create a "Block S" perimeter. My feet were freezing and I wished I had a broom, but I was not yet satisfied with the result. I finished the figure by removing snow from the outlined logo.
To date, I have not confessed to my graffiti. Why now? The 25th anniversary of my handiwork (Century at Stanford, March/April) seemed an appropriate time.
Dennistoun "Denny" Brown, '79
Billings, Montana
SLOW DOWN, THERE
As much as we admire the work done by Sen. Alan Cranston (Examined Life, March/April), I am sure his mile-relay team at Stanford did not set a national record in 1935. The world mile-relay record of that era--3 minutes, 12.6 seconds--was set in 1931 at the Fresno Relays by Stanford's Maynor Shore, Abe Hables, Ike Hables and Ben Eastman. I believe that record stood until broken by the Stanford team of Shaw, Clark, Williamson and Jeffrey in 1940.
Abe Hables was the father of my wife, Benita Hables Gray, '52, and Ike was Benita's uncle.
George Gray, '51
San Diego, California
Editor's note: Gray is correct. Cranston's team won the national title but did not break any records.
'TREAD CAREFULLY'
It is troubling to read of Stanford faculty decrying violations of labor and human rights in underdeveloped countries ("Is Time Running Out on Nike Contract?" Farm Report, March/April) while living and working comfortably in the richest 10-square-mile area of the world. To those who would cancel the roughly $1 million Stanford-Nike contract, I would ask that you be the ones to travel to the factory you are putting out of business, stand before the people whose lives you have so drastically affected and tell them it was the Stanford Faculty Senate that sent them begging into the streets.
Operations like Nike are not perfect, but they are much better than not having work. There are conditions that by the Faculty Senate standards should certainly be condemned, but by underdeveloped-country standards are the difference between eating and starving. In some cases, what looks like child labor is really family labor; and by some standards, family labor is family.
While working on aid and development projects in Guatemala, I remember talking with some women who were weavers, trying to come up with a way to price their goods. They added up the material cost, and that was the "price." I asked them about pay for their time, noting that "time was money." They answered that time could not possibly be money. Time was far more valuable than any amount of money; to them, time was life. I watched the women weave as their children helped them with various tasks, integrating family life into the work they did, and I saw that time really wasn't money, even in my own life. I have also visited weaving factories in Asia where children and adults run the looms for long hours, doing what they can to earn a small amount of money. The floor is dirt; there are no lights, no fans, no medical plans, no cafeterias, no breaks. This can and must be improved, but it is still preferable to sitting in the gutter begging.
So tread carefully and with compassion, Stanford Faculty Senate. If you are genuinely concerned about the conditions in developing nations, then contribute some of your time and brain power to their problems. Don't work in a vacuum, where your moral outrage means nothing. Invite Nike to your senate forum. Strive together with Nike to make it better. Walk in Nike's shoes, and then walk with the bare feet of the people you would put out of work.
Wayne Mehl, '59, MBA '66
Koloa, Hawaii
DEEP ROOTS
El Palo Alto, the tree depicted on the University seal, was prominent long before Leland Stanford built the Palo Alto Stock Farm (Letters, March/April). A registered California Historical Landmark, it carries a citation titled "Portola Journey End," which reads: "In 1769 the Portola expedition of 63 men and 200 horses and mules camped near El Palo Alto, the tall tree. They had traveled from San Diego in search of Monterey but discovered instead the Bay of San Francisco. Finding the bay too large to go around, and deciding that Monterey had been bypassed, they ended the search and returned to San Diego."
With the tree being a landmark even 231 years ago, it is not by accident that El Camino Real runs by its feet.
George Gray, '51
San Diego, California
UPHILL BATTLE
As a Stanford graduate and professional land-use planner, I had mixed feelings reading "This Precious Plot" (January/ February). I was embarrassed that Stanford had to be pulled begrudgingly into the 21st century as a member of the larger community, given the magnitude of its impact on the region. I was surprised that Stanford had a land-use plan of only 10 years, when a 25-year horizon is typical among similar-sized communities. I was disappointed over Larry Horton's antagonistic comment that Stanford was "not running a public park" in the Foothills, when Stanford has essentially promulgated the Foothills as public space by allowing access for recreation and education.
At the same time, I was perplexed over the county supervisor's claim that Stanford should have reliably seen 99 years into the future, when 99 years of open-space preservation in exchange for a 10-year development permit doesn't meet the Supreme Court's rational nexus test for a public purpose. This appeared to be pure political pandering.
Lastly, I was hopeful to see Stanford and the City of Palo Alto collaborating on solving faculty and student housing needs. Only through continued joint planning and management efforts involving all community stakeholders can these types of confrontations be mollified. The stratospheric housing-cost burdens are no less a threat to the region's quality of life than any invasion of the Foothills.
Bill Fiander, '87
Topeka, Kansas
It is easy to fight for protection of the environment at someone else's cost. I wonder if today's county officials were around when the Peninsula voted against BART. How many of Stanford's opponents drive SUVs to work, and how many kids and pets do they have?
I live in a North Dallas suburb that is experiencing explosive population growth, thanks to the telecommunications industry, and my town is surprised to learn that if they wanted DART they should have started paying for it 15 years ago. They were so small then, they weren't even asked to vote.
Stanford has been a better steward of the environment than most other developers in the Bay Area, and it saddens me to see that no good deed goes unpunished. The challenge is to balance competing interests, but no one involved in today's controversy will be around to blame if the balance turns out to be wrong.
Clydia J. Cuykendall, '71
Frisco, Texas
Like many alumni, I would oppose any development of the Foothills area--that view is part of all of us. However, I understand Stanford's need to provide adequate housing for faculty and students in light of the outrageous real estate costs in the area. In all the political wrangling, one avenue of negotiation appears to go unmentioned: why aren't the surrounding communities sharing the responsibility of maintaining the open spaces they are so passionately demanding? It seems that Stanford has fomented a unique environment of intellectual inquiry that has directly and indirectly created substantial wealth for these communities. Why are they not offering to provide housing for students and faculty at a reasonable cost? Doing so would limit the need for development and seems a fair trade-off to preserve the vistas that help support those high property values.
Dorsey Grant, '81
Short Hills, New Jersey
I was struck by the irony of the Stanford grad student who found a place for his car but not himself. Is anyone questioning the amount of square footage granted the automobile on campus? Rather than expanding the footprint, what if cars were phased out and buildings built on those parking lots and roadways? Stanford has a chance --possibly an obligation--to set a bold example here.
Julie Jaycox
Sasebo, Japan
The increasingly voracious demands of the environmentalists must certainly conflict with the rights to private property as guaranteed in our Constitution. I don't believe the Founding Fathers would have tolerated such an agenda. If you view ownership as a basic aspect of liberty and furthermore state that there exists a fundamental interdependence between the personal right to liberty and the personal right to property--neither of which has meaning without the other--then I would naively suggest that you have a most forceful argument against this self-righteous movement.
Joan Eck Bruzzone, '49
Lafayette, California
KERENSKY, CONTINUED
Having known Alexander Kerensky as a personal friend through my mother and grandfather, Prince Kropotkin, who worked with him in the Third Duma and visited him in Palo Alto and New York, I offer some reflections on the man and his attempt to save Russia ("A Doomed Democracy," January/February).
Many have tried to depict Kerensky as the originator of the 1917 revolution and one of those who led the uprising against Czar Nicholas II. The Social Revolution, I should note, started in Western Europe in the mid-19th century and was led by a number of socialists. In 1914, Russia was weak from many years of war. Germany, wanting to get Russia "off the Eastern Front," assisted Lenin in overthrowing the czar. Kerensky, being a very able lawyer and a recognized orator, assisted Prince Lvov in organizing the Provisional Government. However, due to the lack of cooperation among the various political groups, such as the socialists, Trudoviks and Bolsheviks, he became a go-between, thus endangering his own status.
While Kerensky did urge the czar to abdicate and did help move the royal family to Tzarskoye Selo after Britain refused to take them in, it was a plot by Stalin, Sverstlov and Trotsky that brought the family to Ekaterinburg, where they were murdered.
Alex Alden
Palo Alto, California
My father, Nicholas Balashov, belonged to one of the wealthiest landowning families in the old Russian Empire. Family members were in the Duma, or parliament, that Kerensky headed for a short time.
Kerensky was under great pressure by the Allies to keep Russia in World War I, and this, of course, proved to be an enormous mistake. At the time, everyone underestimated Lenin. His brother had been executed by the czarist police, and Lenin had been exiled. My father always said that they should have executed Lenin instead of exiling him.
Lenin sneaked back into Russia, hidden in a cattle car, I believe. He then took advantage of the problems resulting from Russian participation in World War I. Kerensky was also having problems with the head of the White Russian Army, General Kornilov, which created a perfect opportunity for Lenin to intervene.
Czarist supporters at the time, my grandfather included, thought the czar would soon return to power, or at least that Kerensky would let him remain as a figurehead. They all underestimated the ferocity of the Bolsheviks, and that cost them their property, their lives and their families' lives.
While most of his family was executed, my father escaped and eventually settled in the United States, where he became an aeronautical engineer. He passed away in 1968; Kerensky died in 1970.
I am so sorry that I never got to speak with Kerensky. When I attended Stanford, I never even knew he was there.
Alexandra Balashov Royer, '68
San Juan Capistrano, California
Alexander Kerensky was a recluse in the Hoover Tower. An English historian came to work on Kerensky's papers there, and I assumed he had met Kerensky at some point. "No," the historian said. "I did not want to, because I wanted to be sure that my research was impartial." (Another recluse in the Hoover Tower!)
I myself was surprised to meet Kerensky. It is well known that I discovered the crazy Bay of Pigs plan, about which Fidel Castro was well informed but which was kept from the American public. I warned against it, and my warning proved correct. Naturally, the cia was unhappy over this exposure of its incompetence, but Kerensky appeared unexpectedly at my office and congratulated me warmly. Later I organized a conference of Latin American journalists at Stanford, who were enthusiastic when I asked if they would like to meet Kerensky at my campus home. He fascinated them with his account of the Russian Revolution.
When the Soviet Academy of Sciences invited me to Moscow to lecture on Latin America, I came to understand why Kerensky was so pleased by the attention of admiring journalists. The curator of the Museum of the Revolution treated me to an individual tour, during which she gave a detailed account of the Revolution but made no mention of Kerensky. "What about Kerensky?" I finally asked. There was a long, tense silence. Then she simply snapped, "He was mad!"
Ronald Hilton
Emeritus Professor, Romance Languages
Visiting Fellow, Hoover Institution
Stanford, California
Richard Lawson remembers Kerensky in 1956 as a "very tall, animated man, with crystal-clear blue eyes and shock-white hair that stood on end," whereas Arthur Porter, some 10 years later, remembers him as "a small, elderly man with a white crewcut," but both recall that his eyesight was very poor (Letters, March/April). That's the trouble with getting along in years: the sharpness of both recollections and eyesight seems to decline.
John Sprowl, '49
Depoe Bay, Oregon
RIDING HIGH
I loved your article on the mountain biking team (Farm Report, January/February). My friends and I all had mountain bikes in the late '80s, and we rode the trails in the hills behind Stanford. I miss that, living here in Cambridge, England, where it is flat, flat, flat!
Just one complaint: the mountain bike was invented not by Specialized but by Gary Fisher and Charles Kelly, whose company, Mountain Bike, marketed a bike designed by Tom Ritchey in 1979. They and a bunch of other friends had been biking in the Marin Headlands since the '70s. Specialized was responsible for the first mass-produced mountain bike.
Claire Parra, '90
Cambridge, England
'A GREAT BUFFET'
My Stanford experience was poignantly outlined in "Building an Education that Won't Wear Out" (President's Column, January/February). After high school, I entered Cornell Engineering School, whose excellent reputation was and is deserved. But the following summer, I happened upon the Stanford course handbook and saw that it offered much more opportunity for breadth of study. At Cornell, I was in a mandatory five-year technical program with one elective each year. I went back for my sophomore year, then quit to go to Stanford. Although I was getting a great engineering education from a great school, I had an overpowering feeling that it wasn't enough.
At Stanford, I got a great engineering education, but it was like switching from the American plan to a great buffet. Only at Stanford could I have simultaneously gotten an engineering degree and six months in Europe (Austria I) along with classes in music (Leonard Ratner), psychology (Al Hastorf) and political science (Kurt Steiner), plus many other courses (yes, including Western Civ) that did not necessarily apply to my degree requirements. I still had to go five years, but what great years they were.
The years since then have been great, too. What I wanted from Stanford, besides the learning, were the tools for a life's experience, and that is what I got. Working in a large engineering company, one can see the difference, but it's hard to explain without sounding like a braggart. When I've had the occasion to talk to prospective Stanford students, it is this philosophy of education that I stress.
President Hennessy's column leaves me believing that the real Stanford experience will continue for a long time.
Ken Self, '67
Lake Oswego, Oregon
IN PRAISE OF PRINCE LIGHTFOOT
You refer to "the antics of 'Prince Lightfoot' . . . who performed in Hollywood-Indian trappings at football halftime shows" in the Farm Report article, "Celebrating 30 Years of Powwows and Progress" (September/October).
Timm Williams, a.k.a. Prince Lightfoot, actually danced traditional Yurok dances in traditional Yurok regalia. I happen to own one of the two regalia outfits he wore; I'm his nephew. Timm took great pride in presenting a culturally enlightening display to hundreds of thousands of people a year. Everything was authentic, down to his passion for his Indian heritage. You will not find a man who did more for Indian rights in California under the Reagan presidential administration. A group of California Indians took offense to the cartoon image and attacked everything along with it. That's why the Stanford Indian is gone.
I have no problem being part of an ethnic group that symbolizes bravery and honor. And if the greatest all-around university in the nation wished to have those characteristics attributed to it as well--so be it. There are great injustices with respect to Indian names and symbols around the nation, but what Stanford did was throw a culture out with the bath water.
Chris Eddy
Sacramento, California
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