My Life in Review: Have I been Lucky or What?

Finishing the Thesis

In late August when Richard Wade returned from his summer research travels we reviewed the situation. He seemed pleased with my progress and forcefully suggested that it was time to begin composing a first draft, brushing off my demurrer that perhaps more notes were necessary "You won't know what the gaps are, if any, until you start writing." he said. I found it hard to disagree.

Thus September, 1956 saw the beginning of another academic year and yours truly plunging into the throes of composition. After I finished the first chapter, "The Emergence of an American Juvenile Literature." Jill typed it (she had taken a year's leave and did all of the typing). I took it in to Wade's office. He told me that he was overwhelmed with preparations for the fall semester and that it might be some time before he could review it but that I should keep writing. The same situation prevailed after the completion of the second chapter on "The Adults' Ambassadors." By late October I had turned in a draft of the third chapter, "Right Conduct." Now I was extremely reluctant to continue without any feedback. I feared that if I were "on the wrong track," if what I had written didn't strike him as being acceptable I had wasted my time making any further composition futile as well.

So about a week after submitting chapter three I drove to the University of Rochester campus to express those sentiments. Before I got a chance he announced with a smile, "I've finally got around to read what you have written, all three chapters. It's damn good. Keep writing."

That's all I needed. I was so exhilarated that I rushed back to Brockport, put up the storm windows (it was early November) and sat down to chart a series of deadlines for the subsequent chapters, setting a concluding deadline, the first of February.

Amazingly, sparked by that encouragement, I was able to meet those self-imposed deadlines, complete the remaining eight chapters, compile the bibliography, and compose a preface by the time of Candy's birthday. The finished thesis totaled 529 typewritten pages plus an eight page preface. A critical factor in maintaining that schedule was the sustained solicitous support of Dr. Mike Auleta of the Education Department. Every Friday afternoon, without fail, he visited me in our den where I did the writing. He would read the product of my week's efforts, shower me with glowing compliments and urge me to keep it up. He supplied crucial motivational fuel at times when I was feeling that I was running out of gas (remember I was teaching a full load during this period). I shall be forever indebted to him. His contribution constituted another fortuitous development.

Wade deemed the completed draft acceptable. The next step required three other professors to read and approve. The three readers in my case, were Professor Glyndon Van Deusen, Professor Wayne Gordon of the Sociology Department and Professor William Wasserstrom of The English Department. The first two rather quickly reported their approval with complimentary comments and no suggestions for improvement. Such was not the case with Wasserstrom. A young professor "on the make" he went over it with the proverbial fine tooth comb and a sharply critical eye. He "made his mark" on nearly every page, changing the diction and noting grammatical errors. More devastatingly he appended an extended commentary criticizing my extravagant language and, even worse, proposing a change in focus. He had written articles on the mid-nineteenth century woman and wanted me to expand on his interpretation i.e., he was suggesting a different thesis.

I was momentarily crushed. Just when it seemed that I had reached the top of the mountain I was confronted by an overwhelming cliff it seemed impossible to scale. When I consulted with Wade he admitted that he too was put-off by the Wasserstrom strictures (after all his judgment was being challenged) but assured me that I was not obligated to execute all of his proposed changes—especially those relating to substance. He said, "Make some alterations you think are reasonable to show that you are responsive and ignore the rest. He's had a chance to show off and grind his ax. He won't make any further issue of it. Go ahead with those minor changes and have it typed up as the final draft."

I regained my equanimity, followed his suggestions without reporting back. My next problem was finding someone who was not only a competent accurate typist but who could cast the material in the rigid format required by The Graduate School and meet all of the specifications regarding footnotes, margins, etc.; My momentary setback by Wasserstrom was more than nullified by another fortuitous development. Someone, I can't remember who (I wish I could) suggested that I contact Miss Ruth Harper, the Graduate School Secretary since he had heard that she had typed some of the dissertations as something to do while taking care of her invalid father. I did; she consented. Not only was her work letter-perfect. It impeccably fitted all specifications for Ph.D. theses. However, that was not surprising since she had been the person in the Grad Office who inspected the mechanical characteristics of dissertations. Obtaining her services proved to be a far bigger good break than the hair-line fracture caused by the Wasserstrom "ax."

All that remained was the oral defense of the thesis. This took place at The Faculty Club on a beautiful April afternoon, The Dean of The Graduate School presided. Others present included the three who had read the manuscript plus several members of the History Department. Actually I remember little about that session save that, with the exception of Wasserstrom, the questioning was friendly and non-inquisitorial.

Wasserstrom wanted to know why I had not dealt with women within the conceptual framework he had suggested (and in accordance with his articles on that subject). I explained—or tried to—that to proceed in that direction would take me out of the scope of my study (i.e., was irrelevant). He pressed further. Then Professor Lewis Beck, the Graduate Dean and Professor of Philosophy, cut him off saying "Mr. Crandall has provided a reasonable explanation. Let's move on."

After a little more than an hour I was asked to retire to another room. Soon the Dean invited me back; each of those present congratulated me individually. When I shook hands with Wasserstrom I made some self-effacing comment about needing a Ph.D. to protect me in my state of ignorance. His response, "No, no, don't apologize. You're a Ph.D. now. You can afford to be proud, arrogant and poor."

Dick Wade invited me and Jill (she had come with me and was waiting in the library) to his and Louise's (his wife) for a celebratory drink. As we chatted he pointed out that Wasserstrom was simply trying to score some brownie points with the Dean. Our time at the Wades placed a positive punctuation point on a pleasant day and marked a happy ending to a long academic odyssey strewn with many months of hard work and studded with several fortuitous developments. In some respects the pursuit of the Ph.D. is an endurance contest with perseverance and stamina as critically important as intelligence and talent.

The ceremonial climax of my academic odyssey took place in June at Fauver Stadium on The University of Rochester campus. Mother, Dad, Jill and Candy sat in the stands while the academic procession marched into the arena. Dr. Arthur May, one of my favorite professors had the honor of being Macebearer. Ex-Governor Thomas E. Dewey delivered the commencement address. I don't remember what he talked about but I think it was about thirty minutes. The Ph.D. candidates held the honored spot in the awarding of diplomas i.e., they were the last group, even after the M.D.'s. As I mounted the platform to receive my sheepskin and to be hooded Dr. May called out softly, "Nice going, Jack." It was a day to remember and savor, a culmination of years of persevering effort and of a number of fortuitous developments. The Ph.D. is not won singlehandedly or without much support.

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