Showing posts with label William A. Selke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William A. Selke. Show all posts

Monday, July 10, 2017

Ethics: Our evolving understanding of animal rights




Photo by Rick Eh? — Used under Creative Commons License



Presented to the Club on Monday evening, December 15, 2003 by William A. Selke



In May [2003], a letter appeared in The Berkshire Eagle as part of a continuing debate as to whether the Housatonic should be stocked with trout or with smallmouth bass. While other writers had argued about the sporting merits of the different breeds, and which fish would survive long enough to be caught, this letter spoke of the "standard of ethical treatment of the stocked trout." Then, a few weeks later, a letter appeared decrying the exploitation of animals in circuses, the writer identifying herself as a member of People for the ETHICAL Treatment of Animals. Was the re-appearance of that word, ethical, coincidence, or was it a manifestation of a vast animal rights conspiracy? This is a report of my findings. That key word, ethical, is defined as: "pertaining to or dealing with morals or the principles of morality: pertaining to right and wrong in conduct." The writers using it were presumably among a growing number who feel, deeply, what is moral and what is right-and-wrong in our relationships with other creatures. Their position has evolved over a considerable period, not steadily, but, it seems, in fits and starts.



Humane folk have probably always been kind to their own animals, and sometimes encouraged others to do the same. Concern about the mistreatment of livery horses led to the founding of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals in England in 1824. Right-thinking Americans traveling in England noted the success of that organization, and copied it with the founding of the ASPCA shortly after.



Legal actions in that early period by Henry Berg, a pioneer animal welfare activist, were significant in themselves, but also foreshadowed the philosophical basis of the movement of today. With his urging, the state of New York enacted laws against cruelty to animals. Then in, in 1874, he successfully pressed for the prosecution of an offender. The animal that had been maltreated happened in this case to be a young boy! This incident lead to the formation of the SPCC. But what is significant in the present context is that the law, probably unintentionally, did not distinguish humans from other species as the animals to be protected.



While there was no defense for the starving of horses, some activists moved animal protection in a direction which was not generally acceptable. In Britain in 1975 a militant group founded the Society for the Protection of Animals Liable to Vivisection_ They immediately pushed through Parliament the Cruelty to Animals Act. Though at the time it looked as though the anti-vivisectionists had won, in retrospect, it was fortunate. It brought peace for a number of years to a troubling issue with an act which acknowledged the vital role animals must play in research and in education and is moderate and reasonable. It imposed strict standards, both for the value of the experiments being performed and for the avoidance of needless suffering by the animal, but laboratory practices adapted to them, and there have never been prosecutions under the act.



And so it was for more than half a century. But as medical research intensified in the mid-20th century, and the need grew to test pharmaceuticals, so did the criticism of the increased use of animals in the laboratories. Again the movement starts in England, but the methods used represented a sharp departure from those of the relatively civilized Victorian anti-vivisectionists. A group calling itself the Animal Liberation Front (ALS) took to raiding laboratories, sabotaging experiments, and, in 1972, settling fire to a Hoecht research facility. The leader — one Ronnie Lee — was sentenced to two years in prison for his part. In 1982, an American offshoot — calling itself the Band of Mercy — won the designation of "terrorist" from the FBI.



I recall visiting a cancer research laboratory near Harrogate, England in November in 1978. There was a strange sense of excitement. Workmen were finishing the installation of bars on the windows. Our host explained that several laboratories, including that one, had received warnings that they were to be attacked by protestors. A sign was prominently displayed at the front door reminiscent of those displayed in cars parked in Manhattan reading—"No radio in this car" This sign announced that there were no dogs or cats in the laboratory. Apparently, in the United Kingdom, the intensity of outrage among protestors would depend on the species of the animals whose wellbeing was threatened, with the strongest feelings being for dogs, followed — somewhat diminished — by children, other primates, cats, horses and, far down he list —rodents, which happened to be what were used in that lab. One would wonder how, if the ALF had attacked, the Syrian Golden Hamsters would have enjoyed being liberated in autumn in the West Riding of Yorkshire.



Animal welfare had become a rough game. The goals of these groups were very different from those of the SPCA and Humane Societies. Some of what was appearing was destructive, some seemed silly, and there did not appear to be a clear central principle behind these actions.



In the early seventies, books and papers were published postulating radically new structures of the relationship between humans and animals. In 1975, this lively discussion was crystallized with the publication by Peter Singer, an Australian, now professor of bioethics at Princeton of Animal Liberation, the book which appears to be the bible of the movement. In it, he offers an audacious philosophical basis for the entire field. He wrote that with black liberation, gay liberation and women's liberation, we might have thought we had come to the end of the road. But, "a liberation movement demands an expansion of our moral horizons, so that practices that were previously regarded as natural and inevitable are now seen as intolerable."



In the preface he writes: "This book is about the tyranny of human over nonhuman animals ... causing an amount of pain and suffering that can only be compared with that which resulted the tyranny of white humans over black humans." He decries the sharp difference in our regard for humans and for non-humans. He argues — or his style suggests that he reveals — that all sentient creatures should be treated equally, and that rights we regard as human rights belong to all animals — human and non-human. To set special standards for humans constitutes "speciesism," another unacceptable –ism. He extends protection to octopuses, for certain, and will include jellyfish if research shows them to be deserving. This principle leads to Singer's opposition to any use of animals as food, for entertainment, or as medical laboratory models.



Singer, who is said to approach any subject with "almost adolescently fierce purity," exhibits a certain consistency in applying the idea that humans should not be favored just for being members of that species. Invitations for him to speak at German universities were withdrawn when it was realized that he openly advocated euthanasia for humans who don't measure up, mentally. They saw this as uncomfortably similar to some of the policies of the Third Reich.



Most of us do make a sharp distinction between the rights we grant to humans and those for other species. Even though, by the latest calculation, 98.5 percent, of the DNA of chimpanzees is identical to ours — up from an earlier calculation of 94 percent — we employ chimps in medical research in ways unthinkable for humans.



Speciesism is, indeed, implicit in our ethical judgments. One of the scientific magazines recently told of an entrepreneurial biologist who thought there would be profit to be made with laboratory technique he was developing. He proposed that by uniting humans and chimpanzees in trans-species hybrids he would have a source of more acceptable replacement body parts than those harvested from pigs. He knows that this would not be countenanced on ethical grounds, but he gives, facetiously, as his reason for not proceeding with the business, that he feared being burdened legally to provide education — K through 12 — for such animals.



Singer clearly has honed his responses to what we might regard as flaws in his thinking. When it is pointed out that predators eat other animals, he excuses them on the basis of the digestive limitations of true carnivores. While nature may seem harsh, the zebra, eaten by the lion, suffers only in its dying moments. It thus has a much better life than the endless boredom and discomfort experienced by a pig in a factory farm.



He defends his not pressing for porcine suffrage. He acknowledges that Congress may direct the Department of Agriculture to take steps which influence the lives of pigs, but pigs have insufficient understanding of the platforms of the political parties for them to be able to vote in their own interest. Displaying that consistency for which he is notorious, he states that humans with limited understanding shouldn't be allowed to vote, either.



Singer's basic principle picks up all the old animal welfare issues, including that perennial — vegetarianism. It has had prominent exponents over the years — George Bernard Shaw, Percy Byshe Shelly, as well as, of course, Mohandas Ghandi. Members of my generation [Selke was born in 1922.] were likely to have known young people — perhaps among their own children — who adhered at least temporarily to the restrictions, usually through the influence of a contemporary. That influence in some cases seemed to reflect a reordering in importance of the two basic biological drives. In the public at large, avoidance of cholesterol may be of greater influence than concern for its source.



But it is not the eating of meat that Singer opposes most strongly, rather it is the practices of factory farms, where animals spend their whole short lives penned up, converting feed into saleable flesh. He is surprisingly tolerant of bull-fighting. Unlike beef steers, the fighting bulls enjoy a relatively free and happy life before they enter the ring, and there is always that chance that they can hook a horn into a deserving tormentor.



A baffling number of organizations were formed to bring the world into compliance with the ideal set forth by Singer, but one dominates all others, People for the Ethical Treatment of animals PETA (knowing no better, I'll pronounce the acronym with a long E, both because of the capitalization and because they are opposed to the keeping of pets.) [In 2003] PETA has a membership of 3/4 of a million and an annual budget of 10 million dollars.





Their prominent stands have polarized the public. During the current war, our Navy has been assisted by dolphins and sea lions in safely moving through the Persian Gulf, delivering humanitarian aid to the port of Umm Qasr. These creatures had been trained to find mines and mark them with buoys without coming in contact with them. Twenty-two mines have been detected and destroyed, sparing our vessels. The dolphins are paid 20 pounds of fish each day for their effort. PETA protested placing them in harm's way: the dolphins knew nothing of Iraq, or of Saddam Hussein, and they had not volunteered for that service. More troubling is PETA's raising of a similar objection to the guiding of blind people by dogs.



To influence an impressionable group, PETA has have set up a web-site, PETA Kids. It recently featured items on Tofurky for Thanksgiving, Vegan Candy, and an article on the Young Hero of the Month — a Nevada girl who saw her biology grade fall from A to C when she refused to dissect an earthworm. Her protests to the state legislature led to dissection becoming optional in her school.



The PETA Kids introduction to activism seems more that of a teenage celebrity fan-club than realistic training in influencing a government. They provided to their readers the mail address of the British Prince William — St. James's Palace — so that letters could be sent to him urging the outlawing of fox-hunting. It should be noted that the House of Commons had in June voted overwhelmingly against the sport.



The PETA Kids probably don't share my amusement by one of the listings Google provides when one searches for P-E-T-A. It is "PETA- People who Eat Tasty Animals."



PETA's annual campaign against the use of animals in circuses emphasizes the fact that non-human performers did not choose those jobs. Skeptics might point out that humans — especially young ones — don't have complete choice of their activities, either. In my childhood, piano lessons were imposed on the unwilling by denial of more pleasant activities — playing outside. It seems unlikely that this punitive approach would be effective for training seals. When they are learning to play "America" — or, in the U.K. learning "God Save the Queen" — surely they must be rewarded with fish. Incidentally, I've attended circuses in other lands, but they never featured the virtuoso skills of marine mammals — could it be that other cultures don't have a song which played arythmically would be widely recognized?



Some of PETAs actions seem deliberately confrontational. They petitioned the Florida Department of Education to ban milk drinks from school vending machines, reversing that welcome reform, the elimination of soft drinks. PETA urges die-hard meat-eaters to help save animals by scouring the streets for roadkill. They tout its nutritional benefits — no growth stimulants, no hormones, and none of the antibiotics present in the products of some factory farms.



What more appropriate basis for an ethical principle than the Bible, itself. A group called Fishing Hurts holds that Jesus probably was a vegetarian. They state that he would not fall outside the technical definition of vegetarian by multiplying pieces of fish which were already dead, to feed people who aren't opposed to eating fish. They then state that pre-Gospel account of the miracle mention only bread, as does Jesus himself, as quoted in Mathew, Mark and John. They suggest that fish was added by Greek scribes because, as you recall, the Greek word ixous is the acronym for Jesus Christ Son of God Savior. But was Jesus really a vegetarian? Leonardo didn't show any meat on that long table, and the Gospels make no mention of his eating meat until after the Resurrection, and Fishing Hurts suggests that the accuracy of that observation may not be correct.



PETA didn't reach its position among the many organizations dedicated to animal welfare without some aggressive actions, including a corporate "hostile takeover" which would be admired in a field without the principles we expect in non-profit organizations. The New England Anti-Vivisection Society had an endowment of $8 million dollars. PETA bought 300 voting memberships at $10 each, paid plane fare for members to attend an annual meeting, and ended up the owner. [Editor’s note: If this effort actually took place, it apparently did not succeed. The New England Anti-Vivisection Society is still in business and still has assets worth about $8 million according to their federal Form 990 filed annually.



PETA acknowledges its instigation of some attacks on medical research laboratories. In a New York Times. interview, Alex Pacheo, its cofounder, paraphrased Barry Goldwater, saying, "Arson, property destruction, burglary and theft are acceptable crimes when used for the animal cause."



In the public relations war, they started on some soft targets. Cosmetic companies checked new products for potential irritation with what is called the Draize test in which the products being tested — mascaras, eye shadows — were placed in rabbits’ eyes and the irritation observed for four days. The sympathy that PETA was able to generate with pictures of sweet-looking , unhappy bunnies being used for such frivolous purposes generated anger which was spread against more serious studies.



PETA provides unpublicized support for the ALF, the British group of terrorists, which has announced that its intention is to "economically sabotage the industries of animal exploitaton". Over $45,000 of contributions to PETA by animal lovers was used in the legal defense of one Rodney Coronado, on trial for fire bombing a medical research facility. He was convicted and spent more than four years in prison. ALF burglarized laboratories at the University of Pennsylvania where work was done on head injuries, taking six years of data and vandalizing equipment. When a U of Penn veterinarian not associated with the project spoke in its defense, his office was vandalized. PETA announced that it was "an example to persuade other vivisectionists that it doesn't pay off."



The outlandishness of some of the program of animal liberation is merely entertaining. Citizens were little inconvenienced when the governments of seven states decreed that, henceforth, the purchaser of a dog license is designated the dog's guardian, not its owner. But some see Singer, PETA and their like thinkers as serious threats to our society. One who has sounded the alarm is Kathleen Marquart, founder of PPF, Putting People First, and author of the rather shrill and angry tract, "Animal Scam.” She writes "Though clothed in the moral armor of self-righteousness, animal rights activists show contempt for the lives of people."



She takes no issue with the traditional animal welfare groups, such as the Humane Society and the ASPCA, but warns that unless we resist current trends, medical research will suffer, there will be no guide dogs for the blind, and that untrapped rats will bring back the bubonic plague.



She presents a frightening list of violent acts against medical researchers by a cluster of organizations. In 1981, Fran Trait, of Trans-Species Unlimited (TSU) was convicted of the attempted murder of US Surgical president, Leon Hirsh. ALF took 1000 animals from the University of California-Riverside and damaged computers. They took 264 animals from the University of Oregon. IDA — In Defense of Animals — was linked to threats against 40 university presidents. Northwestern had to provide a bodyguard for a professor of neurobiology. The head of the psychology department at the University of North Carolina received a letter saying "Your brain and your wife's brain will be burned and drilled like you are doing to our lovely animals." All together, over 100 incidents have been reported. These demonstrations and threats have cost medical schools $4.5 million and 33,000 labor hours over five years.



Marquart strongly objects to the Massachusetts law of 1987 which prohibits the release of cats or dogs from pounds except for adoption or return to owner. As an argument for its repeal, she cites the IIFAR — Incurably Ill for Animal Research —  finding that the annual national use of 104,000 dogs and 50,000 cats from pounds saves $80 million over breeding them for the purpose.



She scoffs at any of the betes noirs of the PETA crowd. Rodeos cause an injury rate for calves of only 0.5 percent, less than that of cowboys. She holds that the Eco-dykes are wasting their time protesting against lesbian rodeos. In defense of circuses, she points out that it wouldn't make good sense for owners to endanger animals in which they have much invested. Those animals have a good life, working only 15 to 30 minutes a day, and in the circuses animals live 60 percent longer than the same species does in the wild. Further, she states, circuses help the local economy, advertising in the paper, hiring security personnel and buying from local merchants. These were the reasons not to close down the contaminated spring in Ibsen's Enemy of the People.



Apparently not all Marquart's readers share her views. She stated that the liberationists claim that Adam and Eve wore fig leaves, but, in fact, God clothed them in animal skins. (In the margin of the page in the library copy I consulted, in bold strokes, was written, "Must Check" — now that there isn't a checkout card in the back of a book so without [U.S. Attorney General John] Ashcroft's help, there is no way to guess the identity of the skeptic. Really, the principal reason to miss those cards is that here could be no better recommendation than seeing that [fellow Club member] Jack Spencer had read a book already.) [Editor's Note: The Bible verse in question, Genesis 3:21, reads: “And the Lord God made for Adam and his wife, garments of skins, and clothed them.”]



Is the animal liberation movement, especially Singer's prohibition against favoring our own species, likely to bring about any lasting changes in our world? Moral philosophers hold that the chief test to be applied to any ethical system is to ask if it can be harmonized with what is called common-sense ethics, i.e., with those ethical judgments which, at our best, we feel constrained make, apart from philosophical argument, in our ordinary ethical thinking. In short, are people buying it?



One change we see, even if not wholly in accord with Singer's goals, is the widespread increase of expenditure on pets, lavish even in the new climate of affluence. Two aspects of this trend seem in accord with the blurring — indeed, the elimination — of distinction between people and their pets, or, as we have learned to say, between companions of different species.



First are the new standards of medical and surgical care. In earlier times, when pets became ill, the vet either cured the beloved swiftly and inexpensively, or told the "custodian" that Waggles had to be put down. A recent article in The New Yorker told of a kidney transplant operation performed on a formerly stray cat at the Animal Medical Center in the upper east side in New York . Noteworthy is the fact that the owners (there goes that improper word) of the cat were not wealthy, but they were paying over $5,000 out of their annual family income of less than $50,000 And this for a cat. On my aunt's farm, where I spent many months of my pre-teen summers, a dozen or so nameless barn dwellers earned an occasional dish of milk to supplement their diet of rodents. None of these was ever attended by a vet. For that matter, I'm not sure that any of the three house cats — Whitey, Speed, or Rico — who loitered all day, nibbling at their canned salmon, would ever receive professional attention. I should note that in later years I wondered how and why those three enjoyed the privilege denied the barn cats — surely they weren't the offspring of a feline Sally Hemmings.



Newsweek reported that the average household spent $257 for veterinary care of its dogs in 2001, a 95 percent increase from 1991. This reflects big spending at the likes of the Center for Specialized Veterinary Care in Westbury, L.I., where brain tumor surgery costs $1,650 and corneal transplants $812.



The second innovation is the emphasis on the psychological needs of pets — fulfillment. People see their pets as family members, complete with psychological lives and complexities. America has enriched its children generously with soccer and ballet and computer camp. It follows that dogs, too, should have every chance at fulfillment. In his book, Twelve Months, Four Dogs and Me, Jon Katz tells how each week he drives a couple hundred miles so that his border collies can embrace their destiny, herding sheep at a farm. He states that when he is there, scores of people show up with all sorts of dogs, from avid herding breeds to bewildered mutts. Their owners are all eager to permit them to exercise their atavism. Many owners feel guilty about not doing enough. One woman e-mailed the author: "Is it OK to have a dog and still go to work?” Dog day-care centers have sprung up so that owners can go to work feeling that Max or Maggie enjoy sufficient exercise, stimulation and companionship.



Another area of change is factory farming, and it is inconceivable that these changes will ever be reversed. Surprisingly, Europe has had standards more strict than American practice, and they seem likely to stay ahead of us in this regard. In the European Union, the sizes of cages for laying hens will be increased to 120 square inches, with a perch and a box to lay their eggs, by 2012. In the US, there are no regulations, yet, and the average space is 48 square inches — half the area of an 8 1/2 by 11 sheet of paper. In a voluntary move, McDonald's has increased the standard for its suppliers 50 percent to 72 square inches. Burger King and Wendy's followed. Under pressure from PeTA, KFC has pledged to increase by 30 percent the space for each of the 350 million chickens they use each year. Penning of calves and an iron-free diet, already illegal in the UK, will be illegal in all of Europe by 2007, so veal will be less tender and less white. The flap about serving fois gras at Tanglewood was repeated across the country, so what is the future for an expensive delicacy if it is not politically correct? Those California farmhands who twice each day hold the open the beaks of each goose while dispensing a pint of gruel from a power hose should begin looking for new employment. This despite the appearance in California of tee-shirts saying "fight tofu abuse, eat fois gras."



It is likely that those using animals in research and in medical testing will continue to do so because there are not satisfactory alternatives. The importance of animals in research was underlined when Cambridge University announced that, despite protests by animal rights groups, a $50 million laboratory will be built on University land. There, primates will be used in studies of neuroscience, seeking understanding of the role of the brain's frontal lobes, leading, it is hoped, to new treatments for Alzheimers and Parkinson's diseases. Primates, unlike other laboratory animals, have frontal lobes similar to ours, and a highly developed cerebral cortex, and are essential for success of this research It had been proposed that the laboratory be located at the military facility, Porton Down, for protection against protestors. But the University finally decided that the planned research program is so important that it should not be hidden away.



Even though Mr. Blair upset party members by removing reference to fox hunting from the Queen's annual speech, Commons will probably override the current resistance in Lords and that sport — witheringly described by Oscar Wilde as the unmentionable in full pursuit of the inedible" — will be seen only on Masterpiece Theatre.



And so, although few may accept Singer's basic proposal — that humans shouldn't favor themselves at all— some of the ramifications of that principle seem to be part of out new ethos.



In recent years, aspirants to elected office have first had to avoid being charged with racism. Then, as half our population has been granted fuller rights, there was the additional requirement of abjuring sexism. If the animal liberation movement is successful, a third practice will have to be avoided: speciesism. It will be entertaining to see how candidates pander on that issue.




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Thursday, March 21, 2013

In Memoriam: William August Selke



We are saddened by the death of our member, William A. Selke of Lenox, Mass. Bill had been a faithful member of the Club since 1969. Our condolences go to Martha Selke and all members of Bill's family.



A memorial service for Bill is scheduled for Monday, March 25, at 2:00 p.m. at Trinity Episcopal Church, 88 Walker Street, Lenox.



The following is Bill's obituary:



William August Selke, of 235 Walker Street in Lenox, died Tuesday morning at The Berkshire Medical Center in Pittsfield, as a result of injuries from a fall on the ice, on Main Street in Lee, on February 25th.



The son of August F. and Catherine MacAree Selke, he was born on June 16, 1922 in Newburgh, N.Y. As a young child he moved to Poughkeepsie, N.Y., where he lived until going off to college.



He received his undergraduate degree in chemical engineering, from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, in the class of 1943. He entered the naval reserve, and served with a motor torpedo boat squadron in the Pacific theater. He returned to M.I.T. for a masters degree in 1947, and received a doctorate in engineering from Yale University in 1949.



In 1952, he married Martha Whitney Floyd, a native of Pittsfield, then living in New York. Their weekend trips to the Berkshires, introduced him to the many pleasures of the Berkshires, including

skiing and Tanglewood.



He joined the faculty of Columbia University, where his research and publications were in the fields of ion exchange kinetics, thermodynamics and heat transfer. In 1951 the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission established its Heat Transfer Research Facility at Columbia. After working for the DuPont Corporation on the design of the Savannah River reactors, Mr. Selke became the manager of that Columbia laboratory.



In 1955, he moved to the Berkshires to establish a research and development department for Peter J. Schweitzer Inc., manufacturer of specialized technical papers. The laboratory was built at a mill site in Lee. The work that he did with his colleagues resulted in a number of U.S. and foreign patents on specialized papers, and novel applications of the papermaking process. The company was acquired by Kimberly-Clark Corp. in 1982, and was merged with other portions of the company. In 1982, Mr. Selke moved to Atlanta to be Vice president of the Corporate Science and Technology Group. He retired in 1986, and returned to Stockbridge. From 1986 through 1996, he was a consultant for several major companies, and served as a professor of environmental Engineering at The Lenox Institute for Research. He served as Chairman of a United States committee of the International Standards Organization, and represented that committee at meetings in Beijing and Berlin. He was a member of the board of investment of The City Savings Bank in Pittsfield. In 1966 Mr. Selke became a member of the newly formed Massachusetts Board of Education.



More recently he taught reading and English as a second language, with the Southern Berkshire Literacy Network, and read science books for Recording for the Blind and Dyslexic here in the Berkshires.



Mr. Selke served the town of Stockbridge on a number of committees, including chairing an attempt to establish a historic district in Stockbridge Village. He was chairman of the committee on Affordable Housing, which promoted and helped develop the Pine Woods project in Stockbridge. He served on the Planning Board for eight years, and was chairman from 1976 through 1980. He was also a member of the Zoning Board of Appeals.  In 1993, he was elected to the Stockbridge Housing Authority, and was a member of the committee which formed the Berkshire Hills Regional School District, and built the Monument Mountain Regional High School. Twenty years later, after retirement, he became a substitute science teacher at that school.



After serving as co-chairman of the Council of Tanglewood Friends in 1974, he became an overseer of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and from1979 to 1985 he served as a a trustee of the orchestra.  In 1984, while living in Atlanta, he joined the board of the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra.



He was a member of the boards of the Laurel Hill Association and the Berkshire Museum, and served as president of the Old Corner House-Stockbridge Historical Society, and the Stockbridge library Association. He was a member of the Western Regional Committee of The Trustees of Reservations, and on the Advisory Council of the statewide organization.



He had a lifelong love of music, especially classical music and “good” jazz.  He also loved sailing, and spent a lot of time on the water, both here and in far off lands.  And he loved traveling. He and his wife saw a good deal of the world together.



He is survived by his wife of sixty years, Martha, their three sons, W. August Selke of Redmond Washington, Whitney F. Selke of Lenox, and Edward D.Selke of Atlanta Georgia and a granddaughter, Charlotte P. Selke, who is attending college in Colorado.



A memorial service will be held at Trinity Episcopal Church in Lenox, on Monday, March 25th at 2:00 p.m. There will be no calling hours.



In lieu of flowers, donations to the Stockbridge Library, or Construct in Great Barrington, would be very much appreciated.



***

And of course, he was a member of the Monday Evening Club for 44 years. We will miss his presence and contributions very much.




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Friday, May 20, 2011

By the hair of my chin: Facial hair through the ages

Presented to the Club by William A. Selke on Monday evening, March 21, 2011



It was on "The hair of my chin," his beard, that the little pig vowed his defiance to the wolf. With men, as well as well as little pigs, beards have been traditional symbols of maleness, and, in some eras, have had important significance. Implying that a man would rather emasculate his chin than fail to live up to a promise is reflected in the oath, “By my beard” used by Shakespeare in “Two Gentlemen of Verona.” In all but the most primitive societies, when a beard was worn, it has been a conscious choice, but that choice has waxed and waned throughout history. It is the wearing of beards, and the razors for removing them, that we will consider this evening.



On display in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo are several oval gold disks, with small handles on one side, identified as razors of the period four millennia ago. If one doubted that these devices were effective, relics and pictures of Egyptian royalty of that period show the men shaven, though in some cases with a small circular beard, real or artificial – of gold – in the middle of their chins. Clean chins and jaws have been a possible choice for the elite for a very long time.



Meanwhile, across the Red Sea, Jews following the instructions in Leviticus, Chapter 19, verse 27 wore truly full beards. That verse states that “Ye shall not round the corners of your heads; neither shall thou mar the corners of thy beard.” (We might note that verse 18 of that same chapter includes the “Great Commandment “ –“Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.”) Over the course of history, we’ll see men adding or removing their beards for indefinite reasons, but in this case the authority is clear.





Moving forward to ancient Greece we note that Zeus was always bearded, as was Poseidon. but the young god, Apollo, was usually represented as a beardless youth, a kouros. Statues of mortals are less common, but the customs of the mortals can be inferred from contemporaneous statues of the gods. The similarity in appearance of gods and mortals is evident in the fact that a number of unwitting women bore children fathered by gods whom they had mistaken for their husbands. Hermes, always free-spirited, wore a beard when posing for his early statues, but was beardless from the fifth century BCE.



Greek fashions changed after Alexander the Great’s sweep of conquest in the 4th century BCE. He ordered that all his troops remove their beards, so as to deny the enemy handles by which soldiers could be grabbed and killed. While it was introduced for practical military reasons, shaving spread through the Macedonian Empire as fashion. When a beard was worn, it would be by a philosopher, as a professional badge. This predictably led to proverbs such as “The beard does not make the sage.” So, in the third century BCE, the majority of aristocratic Greeks shaved.



As the Roman forces took over the Greek Empire, the Hellenistic era begins with the conquerors learning to imitate the Greeks they had conquered. That most expert military leader, Scipio Africanus, who was granted that name for his conquering of Hannibal in 202 BCE, is represented in Rome clean-shaven in a splendid bronze bust. And that style was followed by all the early Caesars . Shaven Ceasars were the rule until 117 AD, when the brilliant and transformative leader, Hadrian, wore a beard to signify his respect for the cultural richness of the Greece of 500 years earlier. His successors followed his model for centuries.



Looking at the Middle East two thousand year ago, we ask did Jesus wear a beard? We never see representations of him without one, and we can be sure that no artist took it upon himself to make such an important decision himself. The teachings of Leviticus were, from the start followed carefully by members of some groups – the orthodox Jews throughout time – but not widely. Nowhere in the Gospels is there direct mention of Christ’s beard, nor, for that matter of its absence. The evidence of his beard comes from centuries of biblical scholarship. The Old Testament book of Isaiah, you will recall, foretells the coming of the Messiah. Chapter 5, verse 6 states “I gave my back to those who strike Me, and my cheeks to those who pluck out the beard.” This is indirect, but unassailable proof.



In his depiction of the Last Supper, Leonardo da Vinci showed all of those gathered with beards except for two. One of these is conventionally identified as the Apostle John, known to be younger than his fellows, and therefore, frequently shown as beardless, as was Apollo, the young one in an earlier holy group. On less distinct grounds, the other beardless man is thought to be the Apostle Philip. One would hope it is with tongue in cheek that some feminists now question those identifications, all of them male. They propose that one of the beardless figures is Mary Magdalene and the other, perhaps Martha.



In the Islamic tradition, God commanded Abraham to keep his beard. Accordingly, Muhammad encouraged the growing of beards. In recent times, only a minority of schools of Islamic Law regard beard wearing as compulsory, but all regard it as at least commendable.



Whether the man is Greek or Roman or Jew, his beard starts to grow when, during puberty, pre-existing hair follicles are stimulated by dihydrotestosterone, a derivative of the male hormone, testosterone. A particular follicle will produce hair for a fixed period, designated the anagen. The length a hair can reach depends on the duration of the anagen; since the hair is dead, its growth is not influenced by whether it is cut or not. The anagen of follicles on the arm, for example, will be a few weeks to three months. On the scalp or chin, it is two to six years. When the anagen is over, during a period called the catagen, no further length is added, but a clublike end is put on the base of the hair. After a few months of rest, the follicle pushes out the old hair and another anagen commences.



There are significant differences in the beards of men of different races with in general Caucasians with bigger beards than East Asians. What might be called the earliest Asian immigrants in the US, the so-called native Americans,” are essentially beardless.



Looking for a group within the Caucasian race with a genetic difference in beard length, one might look at the Lombards, the Germanic group which conquered northern Italy in the 6th century and who controlled most of Italy near the end of the seventh. Their name, Lombard, is indeed a latinization of “Longo bardi,” — long beard. I was disappointed to find that the there is no evidence that the anagen period of the chins of Lombard men was ever unusually long. Instead, the name comes from what is probably a fanciful tradition. As the story is told, when the ancestors of the Lombards were a very small tribe in Northern Europe they found themselves opposed by superior force. As they lined up to battle their foe, they were badly outnumbered by the attacking tribe. The order went out for the women to pull their long hair up over their faces and to stand next to their husbands This fooled the invaders and brought instant victory. The term, Lombardy, whatever its true derivation, remains the name of the northern part of Italy, where the descendents of the Germanic invaders remain to this day.



Psychological warfare is not a recent innovation. When those early German tribes were threatening Rome, the defenders tried to demonize their opponents by attributing atrocities to them. They alleged that before a young German man was allowed to wear a beard, he must personally kill a Roman. Whether that was accurate or mere slander, it is an example of the current customs by which the wearing or the shaving of a beard is governed by tests of manhood. In some groups, one can shave only after killing a deer. In others, shaving follows finishing hockey playoffs. A feature of the 250th birthday celebration of Great Barrington is a contest for the longest, bushiest, and most creative beards. After the judging, participants will have “…those follicles (sic) removed for free…” at Sim’s Barber Shop. For some men, unhappy about the trends of our society, the appeal of any customs involving beards is that they are among the last refuges that can’t be invaded by women



In Renaissance Europe, church hierarchies kept switching between requiring priests to be shaven and forbidding them to wear beards. Martin Luther wore a beard, and so young Reformist priests wore beards as marks of their positions. Across the Channel, Henry VIII wore a beard, and his archbishop, Henry Cranmer, honored Henry by growing a notable beard. His subsequent defiance of the catholic Mary I led to his being burned at the stake as a heretic in 1556. With the resumption of the Reformation, it was the bearded Catholic priests who perished on the stake.



In his 1949 book “Beards: Their social standing, religious involvements, decorative possibilities, and value in offense and defense through the ages,” Reginald Reynolds relates how in the 16th and 17th centuries there were constant fights within the church hierarchy as to whether the wearing of beards should be mandatory, or should be proscribed. The disputants were bitter in their partisanship, even though they could not have believed that either side had divine favor. The theologian Valerino Bolzai acknowledged that neutrality with his judgment that “God is not offended by hair,” In Italy some in the clerical community seems reluctant to let shaving be a personal or a parochial choice. In 1656, in Benevento, an Antibeard Party lost in its bid before the regional council for ecclesiastical enforcement of their position that priests must shave. In a show of good sense, that council held that the only theological limitation on facial hair was that mustaches must be sufficiently short as to avoid defiling the sacrament



Even though the switches in custom over the last millennium are dictates of fashion, not instructions from a deity. Following the local style could be an essential career move. Monarchs are accustomed to being flattered, and we know that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Thus when bare-chinned, eight-year old Louis XIII ascended the French throne in 1610, beards disappeared from court. Philip 5th of Spain, crowned in 1683, couldn’t grow a beard. So members of his court also displayed bare cheeks and chins.



Getting closer to our time we note that mid-19th century figures such as Nathaniel Hawthorne just had big mustaches, but by the end of that century the leading literary figures wore beards. Melville and Henry James and James Russell Lowell all sported beards. J. Willard Gibbs of Yale – the first American Ph.D. in engineering, father of chemical thermodynamics, is always pictured with a beard. The leaders in other fields at that time are also pictured with beards, Charles Darwin, Richard Wagner, Auguste Rodin, to name a few.



While numerous generals and civilian leaders wore beards in the early 19th century, our presidency has generally had fewer beards than business and political leaders of their eras. The New York Times recently showed an unfamiliar picture of Lincoln, taken in June 1860. One sees that he has not yet joined what was a nationwide swing to beards. A photograph from later that year shows him starting the beard which in 1861 marked the man we remember. There was a short run of presidential non-shavers, but that ended, with Benjamin Harrison being our last bearded president. After the terms of William Howard Taft, no facial hair at all has been worn in the White House.



For thousands of years, the means existed for men to be shaven if they wished. The metals used for razors followed the general advances of technology, with bronze replacing gold and iron replacing bronze. After the eruption of Vesuvius an 79 AD, pieces of glassy obsidian provided a sharper edge than the metal of the day. Obsidian knives were employed for ceremonial sacrifice by the pre-Columbian Meso-Americans



Eventually, there developed the open-bladed steel straight razor with folding handle, and the strop for the final sharpening This was the true classic design, the standard of excellence for centuries. In the OED, there is a citation for “strop: strip of leather or wood covered with leather for sharpening razors” dated 1702.



Some men found the idea of straight razors near their throats worrisome. They might have shaved themselves were it not for the fear of accidental suicide. In recognition of these potential users in the late 1800s several so-called safety razors were brought to market. In every case, the guard, which protected the throat, prevented the sharpening of the blade in place, making shaving a rather involved process. In 1898, the American team of William Nickerson and King Gillette patented a safety razor with easily changeable disposable blade. Gillette was at that time a very successful salesman for the Crown Cork and Seal Company. From that experience he knew it was possible to make a lot of money by supplying a large number of well-made small and simple objects. (These caps sealed 90 percent of the beer bottles we saw earlier this season). Gillette’s razor was introduced to the market in 1902 and immediately took a leading share of this growing field. Gilllette is usually, but undeservedly, regarded as the inventor of the business model in which the razor is sold at a loss and the profit comes from the sale of the blades. In its introduction, his razor sold for a very high price, five 1902 dollars. Later, to maintain share in the emerging market, he copied his competitors, who already had adopted the strategy usually referred to as ”giving away the razor.” (Currently there may be no better example of this business model than the pricing of computer scanner-printers. The price of two pairs of short-lived refills – color and black – exceeds the price of the printer, itself.)



At some point in the history of shaving there appeared a vital accessory product, the little white styptic pencil, to stanch the flow of blood from the inevitable nick or gouge. While I mention these little cuts in connection with straight razors, only with the advent of plastic injector cartridges was nicking entirely eliminated. Those without a styptic pencil stuck a bit of tissue paper on the bleeding spots, hoping to remember to remove them before the public day began.



Gillette had a flair for marketing, and he expanded the market of shavers. His picture was part of the trademark and appeared on every folder of blades. In 1910, after Theodore Roosevelt had left the presidency of the United States, with great fanfare, Gillette offered him the presidency of the Gillette corporation at a salary of one million dollars. Of course Roosevelt declined, but at very little cost, each party received desired publicity.



Throughout the western world, the first decades of the twentieth century saw change from one in which all men had beards to one in which almost all shaved (or were shaved) daily. The introduction of the safety razor must have helped, but there were other forces in the same direction. In World War I, many of the British inductees, rural laborers, most of whom were bearded, were found to be infested with head lice. The vital step in fighting these parasites was denying them shelter, which meant ridding the soldier of hair, both from his head and from his face. From then on, he had to shave. Among American draftees, infestations were not as severe, but sanitation still favored clean shaving. To this end, the army bought a Gillette shaving set for each inductee, and, of course, made every inductee a consumer of Gillette’s blades. The advent of gas warfare in World War I brought forth an issue somewhat parallel to that faced by Alexander’s Macedonian troops. Beards could interfere with the sealing of gas masks. On this basis the armies of many countries still require that in some branches, if not all, soldiers be clean-shaven. Concern about the fitting of emergency oxygen masks led to the world-wide prohibition of beards on airline pilots.



In the 1920s, beards became a rarity. The only bearded man that I can remember seeing in the flesh, except for the department store Santa, was an uncle, who stereotypically was an alienist. That trend continued through World War II, so that beard wearing in the United States fell to its all-time low by the 1950s. Teaching at Columbia at that time, I don’t remember any of the academic giants of the Philosophy or the English Departments following the example of the bearded philosophers of ancient Athens. Elsewhere, there were small numbers of beard-wearers, following the customs of their groups. An example are Amish men. Young bachelors must be clean shaven, but upon marrying, the Amish man grows a beard which he wears for the rest of his life. The leaders of the Eastern Orthodox church retained their beards. Some Catholic monastic orders continued, and still continue to wear beards, and as do orthodox Jews. But all these small groups together represent a small fraction of American men.



In the late 1960s, the trend reversed, and we started to see more beards. These new beards were not on the Melvilles of the day, but on young men who spurned conventional fashion. But, as we come up to the present, beards spread more and more widely in our society, and lately appear more on members of the Establishment than of the counterculture. The neatly dressed young Mormons who ring our doorbells did not abandon shaving, but members of a wide range of the professions have done so. In the past few days I’ve seen pictures of the following: David Wessel, Economics editor of the Wall Street Journal, Bruce Josten, Chief lobbyist of the US Chamber of Commerce, Randy Moss, wide receiver, Dr. C. Everett Koop, former Surgeon General, Benjamin Bernanke, Federal Reserve Chairman, Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, alleged terrorist .



Picking up on the story of razors, we find that although his company thrived, Gillette, himself, having been spectacularly extravagant, suffered ruinously in the great depression. When he died in 1932 he was almost bankrupt. From the very beginning, Gillette razors dominated the market around the world. But in 1960, their position was challenged by a competitor, Wilkinson Sword of Sheffield, England, who introduced a superior blade. It was of stainless steel. It was known that when a blade is used, it rendered the blade dull. The stainless alloy used by Wilkinson extended the life of the blade more than enough to justify its premium price. But after a brief dent in their market share, Gillette blades, now stainless, were again dominant.



The Gillette Company thrived, buying up competitors and other consumer-care businesses including Oral-B, Duracell, and Braun. The company was finally sold to Procter and Gamble for $57 billion in 2005 and the brand name Gillette is still strong.



The pairing of Gillette razors and Duracell dry cells matches the fact that the Wilkinson Sword Company, which sells its razors in the US under the Schick tradename, is now owned by Eveready Battery, the Energizer Company These groupings of product lines — razors and batteries — are evidence that in modern business, having common distribution channels is more important than, for example, having similar technological bases.



The American inventor Col. Jacob Schick introduced the first electric shaver in 1928, starting what is called in the trade “dry” shaving (the traditional use of razors being called “wet”). Dry shaving had a further lift when Remington Rand introduced an electric shaver in 1937. More recently, a third design, called a Rotary razor, was introduced by Philips Laboratories. Dry shaving changed where one shaved; it didn’t need to be to the bathroom. Then, with the introduction of rechargeable batteries, it was not even tied to the electric socket and so really set free. Driving in morning commuter traffic in Atlanta one sees almost equal numbers of men, telephoning, drinking caffeinated beverages, and shaving.



Reliable statistics on how American men treat their cheeks are hard to find. Any survey involving the internet is prone to distortion by a disproportionate participation by prepubescent boys. With that caveat, consider a recent report:



  • Wet shaving — 45 percent

  • Dry shaving — 17 percent

  • Not shaving — 38 percent



Another survey found that 75 percent of men shave daily. Of the nonshavers, 7 percent cite religious restrictions — presumably these include Orthodox Jews as well as Amish Christians. That survey found 64 percent wet shavers vs. 11 percent dry shaving. It should be noted that some of the newer electric razors are waterproof, leaving ambiguous whether the “wet” category includes electric shavers used with water.



If an anthropologist wanted to fix the date of construction of an American house of the 20th century, he could inspect the bathroom and note changes to accommodate differences in how we shaved. One clue would be the presence or absence of a slot in the back of the medicine cabinet for used razor blades. We used to poke our blades in there, only occasionally wondering about their ultimate fate. When it was no longer a simple blade that we discarded, but instead an injector, or an entire plastic-handled razor, the slot was too narrow to accommodate it, But, for that matter, those discards would not be pose the disposal problem as did a menacing bare blade. Next, the spread of electric razors spurred the installation of Ground-fault- detector electric plugs near the bathroom mirror



My recollections of my first professional haircuts, are of the wonderful barber chairs, and white-coated men wielding frightening straight razors bending over customers, whose faces were covered with thick foam, whipped up with a brush which had been in one of the elegant mugs from the shelves which covered the back wall of the shop. But that hedonistic luxury of being shaved by a barber has almost vanished from our lives. My barber in Lee shaves a few men each week. Generally, they are men physically unable to shave themselves, because of fractured limbs or severe palsy. Theirs is not the excellence achieved only with a straight razor; he uses a cheap plastic throw-away. In New York City one can still be shaved with the incomparable straight razor. The Metropolitan section of the Sunday Times of November 14 carried a feature entitled “A Straight Razor, a Warm Towel, a Fading Art.” It tells about The Hair Box, a storefront in Soho, which has housed a barber shop for over 100 years. There, old Italian men enjoy haircuts for $20, and shaves for $17. For a very different clientele the Style section a week later mentions that places like the “fancy pants” New York Shaving Company in NoLita, charge $25 to $40 for a straight razor hot shave.



For millennia, man had shaved with single blades. Very slight gains in closeness of shave can be demonstrated by two-blade assemblies at little additional cost. The second blade stretches the skin, pushing up the follicle as did the free hand of the user of a straight razor. But with the fraction of American men shaving having fallen so radically in the past 50 years, one might wonder why Gillette and Schick spend so much on developing flashier and flashier new razors, adding blade after blade for incremental, if detectable, improvement in actual performance? However, there is a rational explanation, viz. the evolution of the broadcasting of sports events on television. The audience for these broadcasts is well matched to shaving devices, and pictures of these products can be quite alluring. Verbal descriptions of a razor with – now — one more blade than the competitor’s couldn’t have stirred much interest in “play-by-play” but now men don’t give much thought to spending a dime or two more each day for fancier new razors. Were it not for playoffs and the World Series, we might never have had razors with more than two blades?



While it may not have been a widespread feeling, I believe that many of us would have worn beards in the past had we not faced a serious obstacle. That barrier was the awkward period between the stopping of shaving and the displaying of a recognizable beard. A recent development makes it possible to make that transition without at any point being out of style. In much earlier eras, aristocratic German youths sat for portraits wearing several days’ growth of beard – stubble. In the 60s, a stunt by some trend-setting American young men was to appear ostensibly unshaven, wearing one, or two, or three day’s growth of stubble. Third day growth, for example, is clearly perishable, but daily use of an electric clipper with suitable spacers permitted presenting the same – presumably transient — appearance day after day. American television viewers were introduced to stubble by a series called Miami Vice carried by NBC in the 1984 to 1989 seasons. Appropriately, the clipping equipment to maintain the stubble was called a Miami Device. (Recently, I saw one for sale in a local drugstore for $15). This practice was given impetus by publication of what was purported to be the results of a poll in the UK. It stated that women rated men with facial stubble as tough, mature, aggressive, dominant and masculine, and judged them as the best romantic partners either for a fling, or for a longtime relationship With endorsements like that, it is not surprising that the wearing of stubble spread around the globe like a porcine flu.



It is ironic to contrast the current glamorization of stubble with the attitude towards five-o’clock shadow in 1960. For the first televised debate, presidential candidate Richard Nixon spurned the use of makeup to cover his five-o’clock shadow. He lost badly and it is generally agreed that his appearance that night contributed significantly to that loss. And as for importance of the debate, we should note that in the general election Nixon received only 0.2 percent fewer votes than Kennedy.



Over the span of history, we’ve seen the fashion in beards swinging back and forth, even within the 140 years of our club. Were you to be required to make a prediction, would you expect such oscillations in style to continue through the next 140 years?



Phone by dawkeye, used under Creative Commons License.
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Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Fasten your seat belt: The ups and downs of Pittsfield's airport


Presented to the Club in 2001 by William A. Selke

While we may not be in a position to influence the outcome, those of us in South County are not completely disinterested in some of the issues on which the citizens of Pittsfield have not displayed unanimity. We certainly would attend performances at the Colonial Theatre, probably go out to the ballgame, wherever it may be played, and might possibly fly from an enlarged airport. The progress reports on the Colonial Theatre and the baseball field have shown some of the characteristics of weather forecasts — some days sunny, some cloudy, and too many it seems, stormy. But we can reasonably hope for happy endings.* The proposed expansion of the airport has not received as much attention, but it is not without its critics, who cite both budgetary problems and disruption of the neighboring area. So, it, too, may yet encounter storms.

The history of the Colonial Theatre has been related most generously, and we’ve been told of some of the great ball-players who have faced the setting sun at Wahconah Park, but little has been said about the history of the Pittfield Airport — on the service provided there over the years. It has not been suggested that scheduled passenger air service would commence with the lengthening of the runway. The expansion is aimed at making the airport more accessible to “general aviation”, i.e., private and chartered planes. But if we wonder whether an enlarged airport might attract a scheduled airline, we might look back at what has happened in the past.

Pittsfield’s flying wasn’t always done at its present location; on July 4th, 1919, there was an air show at the field on Allen Farm. Back then, planes were small and were slow. Any breeze at all would be significant relative to the speed of the plane, so the takeoffs and landings had to be headed precisely into the wind. The surface of a hayfield could support the light craft. So flying wasn’t from runways; they were flying fields in those days. For an airport to receive an “A” rating from the Department of Commerce in 1928, it had to be at least 2,500 feet square. If the turf wasn’t firm enough, it could have runways paved with gravel or cinders or asphalt, but there must be at least four of these runways, crossing at the middle of the field, allowing taking off or landing in eight different directions.

The needs of airplanes changed rapidly. As built in the late 1930s, LaGuardia airport had four runways. By 1945, two of these runways had been were abandoned, but the runways which were retained were lengthened, widened, and given deeper foundations.

And so, in the 1930’s when the airport was built in Pittsfield, it had a single, paved runway, 3,500 feet long. In keeping with the new age, in May 1938 air mail service was established. The route was to Westfield, and then on to Boston. For that inaugural flight, mail from South County was flown from Gt. Barrington to join the main volume. Airmail service was discontinued during the war, although, we will hear, was started again and again, each time with great fanfare, in later years.

During the war, tens of thousands of young Americans had been taught to fly, and many more had learned how to service aircraft. Aviation was an area of exciting business growth. Air travel was the future. Thus, it is not surprising that in September of 1946, experienced veterans of the Air Corps started the New England Central Airway System. Pittsfield was included in its routes. There were three flights each day to and from Boston. How could it be anything but successful? Probably some of the same enthusiasm that more recently supported dot-com ventures provided capital for these new investment opportunities. Unfortunately, there just weren’t enough customers; it failed within the year.

At that same time, some other veterans saw how air service could be profitable carrying valuable and perishable freight. The Strato Freight company. based in Pittsfield, put a war-surplus C54, the military designation of the DC-3, into service flying newborn chicks south from Connecticut and returning from Florida loaded with gladiolas. A crash in Florida in 1947 killed the pilots, and that company.

A later freight service, Wiggins Air Express, started in 1951 using a smaller Cessna plane. A photograph in the Berkshire Eagle shows the airport manager, John Heaton, loading the plane with fifteen packages, totaling 221 pounds. There were bundles of silk thread from A.H.Rice destined for Los Angeles, Wichita, and San Antonio, some G.E. parts, and Glix-(GLIX)Brand pajamas and women’s housecoats, evidence of the diversity of manufacturing in Pittsfield.

The plane used by the ill-fated Strato Freight company,, the DC-3, played such a starring role in our story that it warrants a diversion in the chronology. This plane is universally recognized as the greatest plane of its time. And some argue that, since it was the plane with which air travel became a regular part of our lives, it is the greatest of all time.

Its origin goes back to 1933, when TWA – then Trans Continental and Western Airlines - invited bids for three-engined planes bigger and faster than the old Ford tri-motor. This requirement of three engines was for safety. Engines, then, weren’t very dependable. Twin-engined planes could be bigger than single engined ones, but both of those engines had to be operating for the plane to stay aloft. Some of you may remember that in his book “We,” Lindbergh related how some of his backers urged him to buy a twin-engined Bellanca plane with more comfort and capacity than the Spirit of St. Louis. Lindbergh reasoned that since the Bellanca could not fly on one engine alone, and the engines were then the most unreliable parts of airplanes, having a second engine doubled the chance of failure. And so,he chose the single-engined Spirit of St. Louis. To achieve safety with larger planes, the solution had been the tri-motor design, since it could fly with any one of its engines dead. This was the state of the art in 1933.

Even though the airline had specified a tri-motor, Donald Douglas designed and built a twin-engine model which could fly on one engine. To prove it, he flew it over the Rockies with one of its engines turned off. This plane, called the DC-2, instantly became a favorite of the airlines. This led to the DC-3, when American Airlines wanted a somewhat larger plane, a sleeper. The result was one which could be fitted with fourteen seats which could be folded down to provide seven berths and seven more berths folded down from the ceiling. A great publicity coup was achieved when Shirley Temple, then aged eight, was a passenger on the first transcontinental sleeper flight on December 17, 1935. In 1936, the day-plane version of the DC-3, carrying 21 passengers — in two seats on one side and one on the other — became the standard transport plane, and by 1939 that model was carrying 90 % of America’s passengers. Ultimately, over 450 were bought by airlines and 10,170 were produced for military use by the United States and Britain — where they were called Dakotas. Over 800 of the craft participated in the D-Day invasion..

There are a few hundred DC-3s still in use; I’ve seen them during the 1990s in airports in Asia and South America. My last trip in one was when visiting a sisal plantation in the north of Haiti. Martha and I flew from Port-au-Prince on a Haitian Air Force DC-3 which took paying passengers. It was landed on a strip between rows of sisal — century plants — with apparent competence. However, we hired a car for the return trip.

All this talk about DC-3s is to establish the significance of what one would see at the Pittsfield Airport in during the mid-1950s. The activity there is graphically clear in a newspaper clipping in the collection of Gilbert Desautels, proprietor of the Elm Street barber shop, who has made a hobby of collecting pictures relating to aviation in Berkshire County. That photo shows DC-3s of two real airlines of the day — Mohawk and Northeast — taxiing to and from the gate, respectively. It is a busy scene. Pittsfield was a crossroads of air travel. Northeast arrived from New York, via Hartford, and went on to Keene. Mohawk came from Boston, via Worcester and Hartford, on its way to Albany, Utica, Ithaca, Rochester and Buffalo. This was before the New York Thruway or the Massachusetts Turnpike were completed, so flying should have been than driving, despite the many short hops..

But soon after establishing the service, those airlines displayed unhappiness. In those days, before deregulation, once service started, federal approval was required to stop it. In 1955, the two airlines joined in a request to eliminate Pittsfield from there schedules, citing that the length of the runway, which limited their service to fair weather. This had little effect. In 1958, Mohawk petitioned Mayor Haughey for his support of their request to the Federal agency. They averaged only two passengers per day to Pittsfield. In winter, the early sunset limited flying to a short day. Lights were not installed until much later, in1972..

In 1962, Northeast finally was able to wriggle out of its obligation to Pittsfield, resulting in another hiatus in airmail service.

One must wonder whether having the mail take to the air directly from Pittsfield really added much speed, anyway. With any of the airlines we will encounter, the flights to or from Pittsfield were likely to be canceled in bad weather. What happened to the airmail then; was it put on a truck with the plebeian first class, or was it held at the airport waiting for fairer times? A cynical view would be that the principal charm of air mail lay in the subsidy it provided to the airline, rather than in speed of transit.

The runway of 3,500 feet, which would have sufficed in the big leagues a few decades earlier, was becoming an inescapable limitation. The local airport commission, headed by Harley Jones, finally received approval and financing for a new 5,000 foot runway, extending over Barker road. Aware that completion of this longer runway would weaken their case for discontinuing service, Mohawk pushed for release and received it in 1965. The new runway was ready for use in 1969.

Mohawk continued to serve Albany. Some of you may remember that several senior managers of GE, Pittsfield were killed in a crash of a Mohawk plane there. Very shortly after that accident, the Mohawk name disappeared completely, from the schedules and from the aircraft, as though it had never existed, replaced by the name of U S Airways, which had acquired Mohawk earlier. This was effective public relations, reducing association with that tragic accident, so that people flying the former Mohawk planes would not feel concerns for their safety.

Professors at business schools could use the ventures in the period from 1963 to 1985, as illustrative examples of misdirected entrepreneurial spirit, undampened by the failures of predecessors. When we look a this now, we may be surprised by such a dismal record. But similar histories may be less uncommon than we think. We are aware of those businesses which thrived and survived to serve us now, and we may even know about their origins and growth. But we may not be as aware of those that failed and disappeared. I allude to the attempts to provide scheduled air service for Pittsfield.

The first of the series of what the federal government designated “third level carriers” was probably the most successful. (Readers of the local paper were never informed of the distinction between first and second level carriers, but, passengers from Pittsfield would be certain that there could be no level lower than what they encountered.)

Yankee Airways, a subsidiary of the Greylock Airways, was headed by John Heaton, who was clearly Mr. Aviation of the Berkshires. It operated DeHaviland Dove aircraft to New York. As fitting for a third level carrier, it did not go to the main terminal, but to the “Marine Terminal,” the original one, built by the WPA. The “marine” in that name probably comes from the service provided for the Pan Am Sikorsky flying boats — the Yankee Clippers — for pre-war travel to London. The architecture and decoration of the art deco Marine Terminal building was recently the subject of praise in an article in the New York times.

With Yankee, air mail again left Pittsfield by air. Passengers boarding the evening southbound flight were made aware of this when they would find most of the seats occupied. In them was a mail bag, with the seat belt strapping it neatly in place. Upon arrival at the Marine Terminal, the pilot would dash out and return minutes later with a small truck, into which he and the co-pilot would throw the mail bags before driving off, speeding those urgent letters on their way. Before taking off in Pittsfield, I recall having the captain say over the speaker to the cabin, “Please fasten your seat belt,” the use of the singular reflecting attention being paid to the number of the seats occupied by animate passengers.

When, in 1970, John Heaton finally gave up on Yankee, a hopeful group, called Executive Airways, started strong, flying their Twin Otters on five trips to New York, and once again, a daily trip to Boston. This soon dropped to just three to New York. In little more than year Executive ceased its service.

The next to try was Command, with some Twin Otters, presumably bought from their predecessors, and Beech 99s. Robert Allardyce, who used to travel to New York regularly to work his evening flights to Europe, wrote me “I recall one losing an engine during climb out of LaGuardia. For a moment or two I wondered if the pilot was going to get the nose down far enough to recover airspeed.” Apparently the pilot did, since Mr. Allardyce wrote that this October. Command gave up in 1979.

When Command withdrew, the oddly named Precision Airlines , filled the gap with stops in Pittsfield on the route from their base in Rutland , Vermont, to New York. With great fanfare, they added two daily trips between Pittsfield and Boston. The Berkshire Eagle reported that while two passengers boarded the inaugural flight eastward, the plane returned empty that evening. In 1980, their first summer, they reported that they didn’t have a steady level of adequate business. In those few times when they had a surfeit of customers, the Eagle stated – without answering the several questions that it raises, that “the co-pilot would give up his seat for a passenger.”

When they ceased the service to Pittsfield, after less than four years, they mentioned that they had been able to complete only 70 percent of the scheduled flights.

Failure to complete flights clearly reduced the income the airline received. But, more importantly, knowledge of the limited reliability of the service figured rather heavily in the judging by the traveler as to whether he should fly or drive. The fact that some of us can remember finding ourselves stranded at LaGuardia once reflects on the airline. When we can recall its happening more than more than once probably reflects more badly on our own judgment.

It usually was early evening when they would announce to the few waiting that the flight to Pittsfield was cancelled. Immediately, necks turn, as the intended flyers look over the fellow victims, guessing whether any of them were going to be part of a solution. “I’m renting a car, anyone want to share it? “Where are you going?” “Pittsfield.” “Becket” “Becket?!?” “ I’m going directly to Great Barrington.” One man slips away. Driving alone is better than being stuck taxiing around Berkshire County. Or maybe he decided to spend the night in New York. In any case, collective action isn’t universally appealing.

One winter night, only one other prospective passenger stood there hearing the unwelcome announcement. The woman, twenty-five or thirty, somberly dressed, seemed stunned. Almost frantically, she blurted out, “What can I do — how can I get to Pittsfield?” She didn’t look like she would be renting a car, or, for that matter, for sharing the price of one. I immediately feared, that she would need to be delivered to Cheshire, Lanesborough. I wanted just to sneak away, but I couldn’t really hide from her the fact that I was going to drive northward. So I gave her a defined and limited invitation: she could come along to Stockbridge, but not a mile beyond there that snowy night. While I rented the car, she telephoned her parents in Pittsfield and arranged for them to come down from Pittsfield to pick her up.

As we drove from the airport, I felt it unlikely that this forlorn person would stimulate sleep-fighting conversation. But away from the lights of the city, covered with the anonymity of the darkness, she began a confessional monologue which turned out to last the entire trip. It did keep me awake; indeed, when we finally arrived in Stockbridge, I was gripped curiosity over of what would unfold.

She had been a member of a cult, living in Virginia for several years. The little communication she had had with her parents conveyed their deep disapproval. A letter from her mother had expressed some sympathy — but a strong wish that she would turn from that path. Her father was unforgiving. This trip to attempt a reconciliation was precipitated by the decision of the master of the cult that the time had come for her to marry; to marry a member he had selected for her.

And so, in our driveway, at eleven that night, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the family members as they greeted each other, the hesitation, the hugging, the tears, before they drove away.

Drama, yes, still, that is not one wants from air travel.

Precision’s replacement, Air Vermont, the last provider of scheduled service from Pittsfield, was bankrupt in less than a year.

But while the airport has been a poor spot for airlines, it has served private planes and special visits. John and Ted Kennedy, flew here during John’s campaign for the senate. The funeral of [longtime U.S. Congressman] Silvio Conte brought several jets full of government notables. WWII bombers, a B-24, and later a B-17 came through on tours. The largest plane to have landed here is believed to be an Air Force C-130 transport, coming to pick up a five man rock music group and take them to their next gig in Pensacola. Corporate jets of various sizes use the airport, although apparently the larger ones can do so only in good weather.

And so the city faces the extension of the 5,000 foot runway to 6,000 feet, as well as the provision of 1,000 feet of safety zone at each end. While this project is expected to cost $20,000,000, the bulk of that will be come from the state and federal governments. Pittfield’s share is expected to be about $1,000,000.

Driving up Barker Road, one can see that extension at that end will have significant impact. Extension to the east would seem to be limited by topography, but a lot of mountain can be moved for $20,000,000.

Pittsfield’s budgetary problems have been cited against the cost of the project. A letter to the Eagle pointed out that the value of a big new strip wouldn’t be realized unless the snow was plowed promptly, and a new instrument landing system wouldn’t be of any use unless it was manned and maintained. There will be that continuing cost. The proponents of the project feel that the money would be well spent.

But if they build it, will they come? If passenger service resumed, would you use it? Are there corporations which will choose Pittsfield for its plants or offices or laboratories if their planes can land there more dependably? However, even if one grants that this could be an economic stimulant, it must compete with the other options.

If you had to choose among a baseball stadium, the Colonial Theatre and the lengthening of the airport runway, would one, two, or all of them win your favor?

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*Editor's postscript: As it turned out, since this paper was presented in 2001, Pittsfield has seen the complete restoration of its historic Colonial Theatre, and the airport's runway lengthening project is still slowly advancing — construction is scheduled to start in 2010 and is expected to take two to three years. On the other hand, the dreamed-of baseball stadium was never built, and regular passenger service by air to Pittsfield was never resumed, nor have any major corporations added new facilities in town.
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