September 3, 1972 (Letter from Tony)

It has been a long time, my friend and I have much to tell you.

I am in Berkeley, California and have been since Thursday. Tomorrow I move into my dorm room and another year of school begins.  I want to say that it's hard to believe but that just isn't true.  I've been out here mentally since Aug 13, the day after Jerry's and my car died.

All summer long I knew I would be leaving but it wasn't a reality.  I was very much involved in Buffalo, Gowanda, Springville, etc., on a day to day basis, but nonetheless it was my existence; thinking of changing it just was an abstraction.  All my needs were being satisfied, or at least enough of them that I was perfectly content, a point I shall elaborate on later.

On the day I left for New York, the Friday before the 13th, Jerry and I woke up at 9am and I was going to drive him to work.  (He had a second job with an architectural firm in Buffalo.)  We had gotten in from Gowanda and our going away party there about 5 am.  Jerry said he would ride my bike to work, I could go back to sleep and he would have a way home.  I said OK and went back to sleep.  I finally got up and left Buffalo with my two riders about 2, and drove to Harvey's house.  Saturday he and I visited Elise and Marty, Janet (Harvey's flame for the summer and Elise's best friend), Kenny and Janet, Harvey and I drove in to see Tom Rush in Central Park.  The concert was very nice and driving to Manhattan was tremendous.  I really got into the role of a New York driver.  Anyway, on Sunday on the way back, our gleaming beauty ran through more oil than ever before and after 170 miles of driving it was low enough for the engine to seize up.  Totaled.  It cost $31 to have it towed, the tower was really a bastard.  Enough of the sordid details from that end.

I called Jerry to tell him.  Actually I had called Sunshine House and they got in touch with him and I called him back there.  So eh already knew before I talked to him.  When I started to tell him, he cut in ad said, "Tony first of all I want to tell you that your bike was ripped off."  I started to laugh hysterically.  The only two things of any value that I owned and in one weekend they disappear.

Jerry had felt very badly about having the bike stolen while he had it.  He had locked it and put it on the front porch of the place he worked on Elmwood Ave.  He had tried to figure out how he could make it up to me and he decided he would give me his half of the car.  So when I called and we told each other what happened we were more relieved than upset.  I had felt badly about the car and he had felt badly about the bike.  But it all evened out.

Up until this point, I hadn't been ready to leave Buffalo.  I was very anxious about leaving.  After that it was much easier.  That car provided the theme for the summer, with it gone, my mind was ready to think about life out here and my body finally arrived a week and a half later.

It was exciting to make all new plans and get everything reorganized.  I spent a day walking from Springville to Gowanda along Cattaraugus Creek, through Zoar Valley.  It wasn't as nice as it sounds because it rained but it was enjoyable.

Now, with the preliminaries out of the way, I shall get down to the serious part of my letter.

The week before I went to New York, my sister Rose's husband attempted suicide.  They hadn't been living together since March, but things had started looking better the last month when suddenly Kim snapped.  He took half a bottle of aspirin.  He was in the psychiatric ward of the hospital for a while, he refused to cooperate with the doctors, he was released.  He went back to the room he had been staying in.  One day he telephoned my sister and told her some voices in his head told him to burn her car but that he wouldn't do that because he was too rational.  A few days later, a fire broke out in Kim's room, destroying most of his clothes, his books and records.  He escaped unharmed.  No one was sure what started the fire.  Kim went back in as a patient at the  hospital.  He was given electric shock treatment.  My sister, as a nurse, had worked on a psychiatric ward previously and had seen the effect of electric shocks.  Now this man she had lived with for a year, learned to share with and depend on, was going through that treatment.  She could envision him convulsing on the table.  And she knew that very few of the patients she had worked with had been helped by this method.  It is somewhat of a last ditch attempt.

Rose had been thinking of getting an annulment for some time, she had felt, however, extremely guilty about doing so.  She felt some responsibility for making her marriage work, even now.  And the worst part was that she began to wonder, why had the marriage not worked, what had caused Kim to become so distant, so withdrawn, what had pushed him to commit suicide and led him to the state he was in now.  What part had she, as the closest, by far the closest, person to him played in this tragedy.

I went down to visit her on the 20th.  I had planned a long time ago to stop there on my way out to Calif with my car, then when my car died and I heard about what was happening I flew down to be with her for 4 days.

I had suggested a divorce to her a long time ago, at that time she was very much opposed.  Now, with so many things changed, she had decided to file for an annulment.  The major reason was that Kim's parents were coming up from Louisville to take him back and commit him to a private institution.  There is an Ohio state law that prohibits any separation, annulment or divorce from a person committed to a mental institution, for a period of 4 years.  If Kim were to improve, they might possibly be able to get back together.  If not, she would have to wait 4 years.  (It is 7 years in N.Y.)

The day after I left, Friday Aug 24, Rose filed for the annulment.  It cost $300.  The next day Kim's parents took him to Louisville where everything had been set up and he was committed.  Rose went down the next Monday to see him. That day a blood vessel in Kim's brain burst and Kim died.  A memorial service was held the next night, Kim was then cremated.  Rose never saw him after he died. When I talked to her, she felt numb, a lack of feeling rather than anything else.  This was three days before he had died.  Rose went back to Columbus because she just couldn't stand being around Kim's mother.  That woman had been hysterical.  On sympathy cards sent to her and her husband, she crossed out "son" and put her name there.

Paul, when I left after those 4 days down there, I was really depressed.  There was almost nothing I could do for Rose, and she was going through such hell.  All summer had been so hard for her and then, after a ray of hope, everything crashed down on her.  My god, how much pain can a person be expected to endure.

A long time ago Rose and I had talked about suicide and she had said that if a person could look ahead and see more pain than happiness then she saw suicide as a viable alternative.  I just hope she has enough life left in her that she wants to continue fighting on.

She's been working 40 hours a week and the job of a nurse isn't a very cheery one.  That has been of minor importance but this long drawn out suffering has soured that even more and tinged everything else in her lie.  She was quite cynical when I visited, she didn't trust many people, she couldn't enjoy many things.

And her question and the one I put to you is WHY?

WHY did she have to go through this.

WHY did Kim, an intelligent, young, healthy man go insane and then die.

I can only shrug my shoulders and ascribe it to bad luck.  There is a possibility for disaster every moment of one's life.  I must accept it and to some extent forget it.

I have been on my own out here and I've been extremely excited about conquering new worlds, on my own.  Yet at any time, my frailty and insignificance could overwhelm me and then, what of my little triumphs.

I refuse to dwell on that because I have no answers, not even a hope of seeing the answer.  I would be most interested to hear your views.

I am now actually quite happy and bursting with confidence.  I fell primed to handle anything normal that comes my way.  My creativity is merely waiting for a channel and I'm sure it will soon come up.  Buffalo was a little too comfortable this past summer.

This is the theme I was running through my mind this afternoon as I was walking around Berkeley.  This letter is getting rather long but I want to get this last part down and then I'll end.

I had, in 4 years, established myself in Buffalo to such an extent that I had no dreams.  You mentioned the idea of living your dreams.  Well, I guess my last 5 months in Buffalo, I had no more dreams to strive for.  I was very happy to live my day to day existence.  I had many friends around and man y people I respected.

In you, Jerry, Michael, Joanie, Dr. Holmes, and John in Springville I had around me people that I admired and was learning from.  I was, again, content to absorb all these good influences and work 3 days and entertain myself the other 4.  And things were set up so that I didn't have to look for entertainment.  I had everything right there.  There were always people, friends, to party with.

All the patterns had been worked out, their needs and mine were pretty clear and understood.  The people I wanted round me the most were around me the most.

You, with your individuality and personal philosophy, Jerry, with his sharp mind and impressive manner, Michael, with his lightness and simple enjoyment energy, Joanie, with her strength and her gregarious personality, Holmes, with this scientific and somewhat cynical approach to life, and John with his creativity and a really basic enjoyment of himself, had the qualities that I felt I lacked or was weak in.  I watched, listened and shared with these people, now I am no longer a student in the classroom; now is the time for me to synthesize all these things into my own shape.

Of course I had tried all these things in Buffalo, but I had been limited by the very structure I had spent so much time building.

Old habits persisted, expectations on both sides had been established and the surroundings were too comfortable, I had pretty much attained all I wanted or hoped to in Buffalo.

Now I am in a place with no established social structure around me.  I shall in the next three years build on, and it is up to me to design it, and I am looking forward to that eagerly.  It will be a test, a challenge.

I have started a journal to record what happens and how I fell and also to serve as a reminder for when I start to ease up.  I fell very well organized, even physically.  All my belongings are here in 2 suitcases and a back pack or else in the attic of 75 LeBrun.  All I need is here with me.  Mentally I feel sharp and confident and I have so far kept the newness and strangeness as a positive tool rather than as a scary destructive force.  I feel very much in control of the situation.

I've been pacing myself, giving me time for reflection and organizing and dreaming.  You see, now I can dream again.

And these dream can be more ambitious than any that I ever had before and I have 34 years here to fulfill them and then on to another set.  I would like to somehow keep this newness around me, but realistically I see it fading and being replaced by the somewhat more staid feeling of familiarity.

Perhaps I can learn to use accomplishments as fuel to fire my dreams, but that might also lead to disappointment.

Well, we'll see how it turns out.  I have been somewhat spoiled by my good luck, I have usually had the right thing come up without having to push for it.  If, again, I can transfer that to a basis of confidence from which I can move up, I shall be very pleased.

It looks to be an exciting time ahead.  Write and tell me what happened at the closing scenes of the "Cottage Story".  That position you were in seemed a lot like mine in Buffalo.

I talked to Ralph just before I left.  He still wasn't sure what he was going to be up to after Chautauqua closed.  maybe he's in Florida working in a hotel.  Maybe he's bicycling around the world.  At last report Herbie was doing much better.  I have to write to him soon.