“1949: What were my influencers doing?” Republished especially for the friends I’ve made since 2020.

In only six years, this post already reads like a time capsule. It’s sprinkled with tidbits that friends I’ve made since 2020 might be interested in. For this and other reasons, it deserves another airing. I’ve deleted only the closing section that lists posts to be reincarnated in my Christian Individualism: The Maverick Biblical Workmanship of Otis Q. Sellers.—A.G.F.

Last December 15th [i.e., 2029], in Birdland, 1949-1965: Hard Bop Mecca, I marked the 70th anniversary of the opening of that legendary Jazz club on Manhattan’s Broadway off 52nd Street. Over the weekend, I wondered what else was going on that year, but not the trivia one can learn from Wikipedia, such as:

    • President Harry S. Truman’s inauguration in January
    • Astronomer Fred Hoyle’s coining of “big bang” (a term of disparagement) in March
    • Hamlet’s Best Picture Oscar win later that month
    • The opening of Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman in February at the Morosco (six blocks south of Birdland’s near-future site)
    • The Soviet Union’s successful A-bomb test in August and Truman’s sharing that news a month later
    • Twin Communist victories: the proclamation of the People’s Republic of China on the first of October and of the German Democratic Republic a week later.

World War Two was in the rearview mirror. but the Cold War with its threat of mutually assured nuclear destruction was straight ahead.

No, I was remembering what writers who influenced me over the past fifty years were doing in 1949. Most of the embedded links below will take you to posts that elaborate upon that influence.

Herbert Aptheker, 1915-2003

In 1949 Communist Herbert Aptheker, a 34-year-old World War II veteran and a Columbia University Ph.D. (and my future comrade, friend, and employer), was compiling material for his A Documentary History of the Negro People in the United States, whose first volume came out in 1951. (The series would grow to seven.) In April, Aptheker received W. E. B. Du Bois’s letter in reply to Aptheker’s request that he testify for the defense at the Foley Square trial of Communist Party leaders. The trial had begun in January; Aptheker himself testified on August 19th.[1]

Anthony Flood, “Herbert Aptheker: Studies in Willful Blindness” (2019). Buy on Amazon.

Du Bois’s letter shows the address from which he sent it: 23 West 26th Street in Manhattan, originally a John Jacob Astor townhouse, built in 1881. In 1924 Astor’s son Vincent “sold the building for $30,000 to Frederick Vanderbilt Field [1905-2000]”—yes, those Vanderbilts—“a Communist who wrote for the Daily Worker published by Political Affairs Publishers, Inc.”[2]

Alphaeus Hunton on his release from prison 1951; Dorothy Hunton; Paul Robeson; W. E. B. Du Bois

The New York State Communist Party expressed interest in buying the building from Field in 1957. This was six years before Du Bois joined the Party. In 1949, however, Du Bois, Paul Robeson, Alphaeus Hunton, and Max Yergen had been meeting there since 1942 as officers of the Council on African Affairs, a Field-funded operation. In 1950 Du Bois ran for U.S. Senate on the American Labor Party ticket (the New York incarnation of the national Progressive Party). Field’s 1983 autobiography, From Left to Right (New York: Lawrence Hill), is a good read.

C. L. R. James (1901-1989)

The month Birdland opened, C. L. R. James slammed Herbert Aptheker’s work in African-American history.[3] But Aptheker the Stalinist wouldn’t give James, the author of The Black Jacobins and Trotskyist scholar, the time of day, let alone answer his criticisms. Aptheker had more in common with James, a fellow Marxist-Leninist, than with Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., whom Aptheker preferred to debate. Schlesinger, historian of American liberalism, sparred with Aptheker at Harvard University about the Cold War and “The Vital Center” (the title of Schlesinger’s just-published book).[4]

Genuine believers in free institutions must be anti-Communists, Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr. ‘38, associate professor of History, said last night at a John Reed Club debate which overflowed Emerson D.  Opposing Schlesinger in the discussion, entitled “The Center and the Left,” Herbert Aptheker, associate editor of Masses and Mainstream, charged that the “vital center” of which Schlesinger is a proponent, “only maintains what exists, namely monopoly capitalism.” He called for a unity among all non-conservatives “so that a war against Fascism and capitalism can and must be successful.”[5]

Left totalitarians love to smear their opponents as “fascists,” don’t they.

Murray Rothbard (1926-1995). This was taken in 1943.

Murray Rothbard’s first publication, a review of A Mencken Chrestomathy, appeared in Analysis, August 1949.[6] The author, who became my friend when he was 58, was then all of 23. Earlier that year he heard Ludwig von Mises was going to lead a seminar at New York University in the fall. Murray was already a defender of free markets, but not yet a Misesian. Human Action, the expansion and translation of Mises’s Nationalökonomie, was published that October, intellectually converted the young  man.

I was scarcely familiar with Mises’s name, outside of the usual distorted story of the socialist calculation debate, and was therefore surprised to learn in the spring of 1949 that Mises was going to begin a regular seminar at NYU [New York University]. I was also told that Mises was going to publish a magnum opus in the fall. “Oh,” I asked, “what’s the book about?” “About everything,” they replied. Human Action was indeed about everything. The book was a revelation to those of us drenched in modern economics; it solved all problems and inconsistencies that I had sensed in economic theory, and it provided an entirely new and superb structure of correct economic methodology and theory. Furthermore, it provided eager libertarians with a policy of uncompromising laissez-faire; in contrast to all other free market economists of that day or later, there were no escape hatches, no giving the case away with “of course, the government must break up monopolies,” or “of course, the government must provide and regulate the money supply.”[7]

Sidney Hook (1902-1989) and John Dewey (1859-1952), 1949.

In February of 1949 the New York Times published “Should Communists be permitted to teach?” by Aptheker’s nemesis (and future NYU philosophy professor of mine), Sidney Hook, whose writings served as a halfway house for me as I broke with Stalinism in the mid-‘70s. (A few years ago, I applied Hook’s principles in “Is Herbert Aptheker a Historian? Can a communist tell the truth?”), now the fourth chapter of my Herbert Aptheker: Studies in Willful Blindness.)

Anti-Communist demonstrators outside the Waldorf Astoria, March 25, 1949

In March 1949, Hook and other anticommunist academics and cultural figures protested the Communist front operation that the Congress for Cultural Freedom, which met at the Waldorf Astoria in 1949 and 1950, revealed itself to be.[8] That year Hook also penned, among many other articles and reviews, a tribute to his mentor, John Dewey.[9]

Bernard Lonergan (1904-1984). This was taken in the 1940s.
Brand Blanshard (1892-1987). This was taken at Swarthmore College in 1941, two years after The Nature of Thought was published.

In 1949 Bernard Lonergan, S.J., whose magnum opus I used to extricate myself from the rationalism of Brand Blanshard’s The Nature of Thought, began to present to small groups papers that would eventually become Insight, his “essay in aid self-appropriation” published in 1953. That year also saw the publication of the fourth and fifth installments in his series, “The Concept of Verbum in the Writings of St. Thomas Aquinas” in Theological Studies.[10] In 1983, when he was convalescing at the Campion Center (a Jesuit infirmary in Weston, Massachusetts), I spoke with him about Austrian economists. “Well, they’re deductivists. And you know what I think of deductivists.”

Susanne K. Langer (1895-1985). Fortune Magazine, March 1945

Lonergan was impressed with Susanne K. Langer’s Feeling and Form enough to cite it a couple of times in Insight. That’s how I learned of her work, and around 2008 I finally got around to marking up her Philosophy in a New Key: a Study in the Symbolism of Reason Rite and Art. For the first time, the arts were for me not just enjoyable, but also intelligible. First published in 1942, a mass market paperback edition hit the stands in 1949.

What could Langer, a materialist (or naturalist) in all but name, offer Lonergan a Transcendental Thomist? Monsignor Richard M. Liddy, who wrote his dissertation on Langer after studying under Lonergan in Rome, supplied an answer in “What Bernard Lonergan Learned from Susanne K. Langer.”[11]

Eric Voegelin (1901-1985). Early 1930s.

In 1949 Eric Voegelin, another profound influence with whom I had a chance to speak (also in 1983, my annus mirabilis), published a paper on Plato’s Gorgias.[12] The publication of the first volume of his Order and History still lay seven years in the future.

Will Durant (1885-1981), Ariel Durant (1889-1981). This was taken in 1948.

In 1949 Will Durant was struggling to finish the fourth volume of The Story of Civilization. The Age of Faith, a five-year project, was taking six. From its inception, Ariel, Mrs. Durant, had been a partner in this enterprise; her name joined his on the covers of the series beginning with the seventh volume, The Age of Reason Begins.

M. Stanton Evans (1934-2015)

A teenaged Medford Stanton Evans, a future conservative thought leader and author of, among many other writings, the myth-shattering Blacklisted by History: The Untold Story of Senator Joe McCarthy and His Fight against America’s Enemies, realized he was a man of the Right in 1949 after reading George Orwell’s 1984. “It was about communism . . . I said: ‘Well, I’m against communism. What am I for?’” As for becoming a writer, “No, it never crossed my mind. I did not even think in that day and age about becoming a writer of any type. If I’d had my druthers in 1949, I would have played left field for the Brooklyn Dodgers.”

 

Otis Q. Sellers (1901-1992). This was taken in 1921, the year he attended Moody Bible Institute in Chicago.

Otis Q. Sellers (1901-1992), an early influence, but one from whom I walked away to chase my intellectual lusts and to whom I’ve returned as a prodigal son, was testing his discovery of the premillennial Kingdom of God. He announced this in The Word of Truth, Volumes XI, 1949-1950 under the series entitled “The Order of Things to Come.” He’d develop this idea during the 1950s, but he was ready to present it publicly in that volume’s fifth issue, dated January 1950 and therefore written probably during the last weeks of 1949. Here’s a passage:

 

Many there are who believe that the next great event of prophecy is the rapture or catching away of all living believers, followed by the resurrection of the dead in Christ, this to be followed by the great tribulation upon the earth, the second coming of Christ, the millennial kingdom, then the new heavens and the new earth. This, in brief, is the position held by most dispensational fundamentalists, a position which we have often designated in these pages as the Darby-Scofield system of prophetic interpretation. However, it is my conviction that this system has failed to recognize those prophecies which reveal an aspect of the kingdom of heavens which precedes the millennial kingdom, and, therefore, precedes the second coming of Christ. This I call the premillennial kingdom of the heavens since it precedes the millennial kingdom.

I continue to appreciate the intellectual delights afforded by the scholars named above, especially those who, like Blanshard, had a literary gift. Compared to the joy of grasping Sellers’s insights into God’s Word, however, and reflecting upon the industry and integrity which he brought to his pursuit of that pearl of great price, those erstwhile pleasures pale. I no longer long for the fleshpots of academia.

Notes

[1] Here’s the letter.  For a discussion of the trial, see Gary Murrell, “The Most Dangerous Communist in the United States”: A Biography of Herbert Aptheker, UMass Press, 2015, 76-77.

[2] “The Astor Offices at Nos. 21 and 23 West 26th Street,” The Daytonian, August 4, 2012.

[3] C. L. R. James [“J. Meyer”], “Herbert Aptheker’s Distortions,” Fourth International, Vol. 10, No. 11, December 1949. But see also C. L. R. James [“J. Meyer”], “Stalinism and Negro History,” Fourth International, Vol. 10, No. 10, November 1949.

[4] As Schlesinger recalled the event: “The ever reliable Herbert Aptheker denounced ‘The Schlesinger Fraud’ in the Communist monthly Masses & Mainstream as a program groomed to the needs of a ruling class seeking war and fascism.’ In 1949 Aptheker and I held a debate. Neither of us persuaded the other of anything.” A Life in the Twentieth Century: Innocent Beginnings, 1917-1950, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2000, 519. The Aptheker article had appeared in the October 1949 issue of Masses & Mainstream and reprinted in a collection of Aptheker’s essays entitled The Era of McCarthyism, New York: Marzani & Munsell, 1955, 115-129.

[5] “Aptheker clashes with Schlesinger,” The Harvard Crimson, December 3, 1949. For discussion, see Murrell, 82-84.

[6] For Rothbard’s appreciation of analysis’s founder Frank Chodorov who gave Murray’s “fledgling work” a platform, see “Frank Chodorov, R. I. P.,” Left & Right: A Journal of Libertarian Thought, 1967; republished here. For Rothbard’s mature celebration of Mencken, see “H.L. Mencken: The Joyous Libertarian,” New Individualist Review, Vol. 2, No. 2, Summer 1962, pp. 15–27; republished here.

[7] Murray N. Rothbard, The Essential von Mises, Auburn, AL: The Ludwig von Mises Institute at Auburn University, 108. The link will take you to an expanded edition of an essay Rothbard wrote in 1973.

[8] Here’s the CIA’s overview: Origins of the Congress for Cultural Freedom, 1949-50. For the impact of this “peace conference” on a cultural giant caught in the political crossfire, see Terry Klefstad, “Shostakovich and the Peace Conference,” Music and Politics, Vol. 6, No. 2, Summer 2012, 1-21; and Phillip Deery, “Shostakovich, the Waldorf Conference and the Cold War,” American Communist History, Vol. 11, No. 2, 2012, 161-180.

[9] Sidney Hook, “John Dewey at Ninety: The Man and His Philosophy,” The New Leader, October 22, 1949, S-3, S-8.

[10] The series was compiled into a book, edited by David B. Burrell, C.S.C.: Verbum: Word and Idea in Aquinas, University of Notre Dame Press, 1967.

[11] Lonergan Workshop, Vol. 11, 1995, 53-90. I posted the text of this article on my older site. It’s a good introduction to both thinkers.

[12] Eric Voegelin, “The Philosophy of Existence: Plato’s Gorgias,” The Review of Politics, Vol. 11, No. 4, October 1949, 477-498.

[13] Video and transcript of “The Theme is Freedom: Religion, Politics, and the American Tradition,” Booknotes (C-SPAN) interview of M. Stanton Evans, February 5, 1995.

[14] “The Premillennial Kin

My Sidney Hook Collection

 

For my relationship to American philosopher Sidney Hook (1902-1989), see this 2018 post. For my effort to sell off my library, see this, this, this, and this.

I’d love to sell them as a set

Hook as Author

    • From Hegel to Marx (1971 [1936])
    • The Hero in History (1967 [1943])
    • Education for Modern Man (1946)
    • Marx and the Marxists: The Ambiguous Legacy (1955)
    • Common Sense and the Fifth Amendment (1957)
    • The Quest for Being (1961)
    • The Paradoxes of Freedom (1962)
    • The Fail-Safe Fallacy (1963)
    • Political Power and Personal Freedom (1965 [1959])
    • Academic Freedom and Academic Anarchy (1970)
    • Philosophy and Public Policy (1980)

Hook as Contributor and Editor

    • Determinism and Freedom in the Age of Modern Science (1958) (Blanshard, Munitz, et al.)
    • American Philosophers at Work: The Philosophic Scene in the United States (1956) Blanshard, Black, Carnap, Nagel, Sellars, Stace, et al.

The First Esthetic Judgment

James T. Farrell (1904-1979), ex-Catholic, ex-Trotskyist novelist and social theorist, a quintessential “New York Intellectual” (by way of Chicago).

Immersed as I now am in the world of American Marxist creatives in the ’20s, ’30s, and beyond (e.g., James T. Farrell, his friend George Novack, their rival [my professor] Sidney Hook, et al.), I’m struck by their appeal to philosophical naturalism (materialism) to anchor their work in reality, thereby giving their work ultimate meaning. That’s their touchstone. This presupposition is rarely laid bare and argued for; when it is, its rationale wears its inadequacy on its face. I’ll explore this in future posts.

They all wanted, as I once did, to bring about a more just, more beautiful world, one of peace and prosperity for all, even though they and their revolutionary projects, according to their metaphysics, bore no more significance than the bathroom insect I crushed this morning. As an event, neither its crawling nor my crushing was less significant than, say, Beethoven’s composition of his Ninth Symphony or any performance thereof. When leftists achieve anything they deem success, they crush, not insects, but human beings, by the dozens, hundreds, thousands, and millions.

Created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27), however, they know in their hearts that they’re divine intentions, not byproducts of a cosmic explosion, the extrapolation to which their veneration of Received Scientific Opinion drives them and constrains them to honor.

Their symbol-making and -using nature, without which neither science nor art is possible, is just a “lucky accident”; the very effectiveness of mathematics in the natural sciences, the “fit” of number and matter, is admitted to be “unreasonable” on naturalistic terms.

They’d go mad if they believed they were accidents. To inoculate themselves against this cosmic nightmare, they tell themselves stories, including one about how man became a storyteller. These “scientific materialists” project romantic images of themselves in every sentence they dream, utter, or write. In so doing they suppress what they know, wickedly (Romans 1:18).

Before Moses wrote a word of Genesis, God had beheld “every thing that he had made” and said “it was very good” (Genesis 1:31). The first esthetic judgment was divine. Human esthetic judgment, if untethered to that primordial truth, may tickle the fancy of its hearers or readers, but it inevitably floats back into in the void from which it emerged—which evacuates it of any noble sentiment it may have borne for a cosmic split-second.

Milestones and Memory’s Millstones

I wished Herbert Aptheker a happy 60th in person in 1975 and called Isaac Asimov on his five years later. I had just finished reading the latter’s memoir, his number was listed, and he answered immediately and amiably. I also participated in Murray Rothbard’s surprise celebration (same milestone) in 1986.

For mine in 2013, my wife and I went to Nam Wah Tea Parlor on Chinatown’s Doyers Street on the recommendation of Mark Margolis, the recently deceased actor with whom only the week before we had shared a common table (i.e., with “strangers”) at Joe’s Shanghai (around the corner on Pell Street).

For me, reaching 70 has not been like hitting 60. I’m neither living nor working where I was then; I had no clue of how (if ever) those transitions would go. Between then and now I got a few things published, books that had been pipedreams and might have remained so. Herbert lived to 87; Isaac, 71; Murray never made it to 69. Each man finished many projects, but also left some unfinished. I’m thinking especially of the “missing” (that is, unwritten) third volume of Murray’s history of economic thought.

I remember talking about Asimov’s books to a youngster working in the mailroom of Sargent Shriver’s law firm. He was stunned to learn that Asimov was a person: the spines of hundreds of books in his school’s library bearing Asimov’s name suggested the name of a publishing house.

Aptheker is and will be (except perhaps for his progeny and the dwindling number of those who knew him) a subject of specialized interest, a function of a broader interest in Africana studies and Communism.

Burton Blumert, Lew Rockwell, David Gordon, Murray Rothbard; undated, but probably late 1980s.

Of these three, only the writings of the polymath economist, historian, and political philosopher Rothbard have convinced thousands of scholars to work in his intellectual tradition (natural rights, praxeology, and antistate, antiwar revisionism). At a memorial in ’86, Lew Rockwell told me that “he [Murray] needs his [Robert] Skidelsky,” referring to Keynes’s biographer. Twenty years later, Murray’s mentor and former Gestapo target Ludwig von Mises (1881-1973) got his Hülsmann. Murray’s oeuvre will need a team of Hülsmanns (as I learned the hard way). Continue reading “Milestones and Memory’s Millstones”

Revisiting Herbert Aptheker’s pattern of misrepresentation and omission

Shortly after my Herbert Aptheker: Studies in Willful Blindness was published in 2019, Lloyd Billingsley reviewed it for Frontpage Magazine. John Hamelin commented on his review at the time, but somehow I missed it, and comments are closed. It attempts to defend Aptheker’s scholarly credibility; it warrants an answer.

Hamelin starts off with:

While The Black Jacobins [hereafter, TBJ] is certainly a significant work in its own right and Aptheker’s avoidance in citing it can be considered an example of petty political rivalries, the idea that it somehow demolishes Aptheker’s writings on Black American history is absurd.

It would be absurd, but that’s not what I wrote. It’s not even in the review. The reviewer got it right: “Flood aims to modify the received opinion that Herbert Aptheker was a historian.”

I sure do.

What I argued for in the book, which Hamelin gives no evidence of having read, is that Aptheker’s work cannot be trusted. That doesn’t mean everything Aptheker wrote is a lie. It means that nothing he has written can be taken at face value.

Continue reading “Revisiting Herbert Aptheker’s pattern of misrepresentation and omission”

1949: What were my influencers doing?

Last December 15th in Birdland, 1949-1965: Hard Bop Mecca, I marked the 70th anniversary of the opening of that legendary Jazz club on Manhattan’s Broadway off 52nd Street. Over the weekend I wondered what else was going on that year, but not the trivia one can learn from Wikipedia, such as:

 

    • President Harry S. Truman’s inauguration in January
    • Astronomer Fred Hoyle’s coining of “big bang” (a term of disparagement) in March
    • Hamlet’s Best Picture Oscar win later that month
    • The opening of Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman in February at the Morosco (six blocks south of Birdland’s near-future site)
    • The Soviet Union’s successful A-bomb test in August and Truman’s sharing that news a month later
    • Twin Communist victories: the proclamation of the People’s Republic of China on the first of October and of the German Democratic Republic a week later.

World War Two was in the rearview mirror. but the Cold War with its threat of mutually assured nuclear destruction was straight ahead.

No, I was remembering what writers who influenced me over the past fifty years were doing in 1949. Most of the embedded links below will take you to posts that elaborate upon that influence. Continue reading “1949: What were my influencers doing?”

When George Novack was an “entranced disciple” of Whitehead

George Novack, 1905-1992. Circa early 1930s.

On his way to becoming a Marxist-Leninist philosopher before the stock market crash of 1929, George Novack (1905-1992) was a student of Alfred North Whitehead, to whose writings I once paid a great deal of attention. After noting that the “disconnected writings of C. S. Peirce were then being collected and edited by one of my teachers [at Harvard], Charles Hartshorne” (another erstwhile hero of mine), Novack wrote:

A. N. Whitehead, 1861-1947

However, the attention of the more serious students was drawn toward Bertrand Russell’s collaborator, A. N. Whitehead, the erudite modernizer of Platonism with scientific-mathematical trimmings. He read several chapters of his major treatise Process and Reality to our class. Obscure and enigmatic as much of its metaphysics was, it appealed to my need for a comprehensive, rational interpretation of the universe. For a while I became an entranced disciple of Whitehead, although as an atheist I was disconcerted to hear that my guru occasionally sermonized at King’s Chapel in Boston. This immersion in Whitehead’s system, with its infusion of scientific, mathematical, and philosophical concepts, immensely widened my intellectual horizon. I also learned from his Science and the Modern World that the clash of doctrines speeds progress. (“My Philosophical Itinerary,” Polemics in Marxist Philosophy, Pathfinder Press, 1978, 15-16.)

Philip Johnson in 1933, six years after leaving Harvard.

Philip Johnson (1906-2005), the notable architect whose mailroom I managed in the early ’80s, told me that Whitehead had convinced him that the future builder was not cut out for philosophy. (I had asked him about Whitehead at a firm outing held on the grounds of his Glass House in New Canaan, Connecticut on June 11, 1982, the last such party he hosted.) Since Johnson had finished his Harvard studies in 1927, he likely crossed Novack’s path in Whitehead’s classes.

Sidney Hook in the 1920s.

Novack mentions having been acquainted with Sidney Hook (forty-five years later my professor) who had studied under Morris Cohen at The City University of New York. I’m interested in whether and how Novack and Hook worked together in the late ’30s with John Dewey’s Commission of Inquiry into the Moscow trials of Leon Trotsky and others. [Since writing this, I’ve realized that Novack and Hook’s collaboration had to have been limited to shared procedural and intellectual tasks. They were united in opposing Stalinist show trials and defending due process for Trotsky, but their ideological trajectories diverged sharply. Hook, an anti-communist by this time, likely took a dim view of Novack’s Trotskyism; Novack would have regarded Hook as a renegade.—A.G.F., December 22, 2024]

I was once attracted to Whitehead because of his nontraditional theism, not, as in Novack’s case, in spite of it, especially the promise it held out to me of meeting the challenge that the occurrence of evil poses for theism. The promise, however, was predicated on a compromise: define “god” down to a universal “lure” of lesser “occasions of experience,” deny this “god” the power to exnihilate, and the result is a superhuman but intra-cosmic agency that, however powerful, cannot act locally within creation to prevent evil. Whitehead’s god is always working to overcome evil, but will never have the victory. Continue reading “When George Novack was an “entranced disciple” of Whitehead”

Sidney Hook: a halfway house for a recovering Stalinist

“That monster!”

Such was Herbert Aptheker’s reaction when I mentioned my having enrolled in “The Philosophy of History and Culture,” a course to be taught by his nemesis, Sidney Hook (1902-1989).  That was in 1972. I was a New York University (NYU) philosophy undergraduate. The class would be Hook’s last in an NYU teaching career that began in 1926 (including chairing its philosophy department from 1948 to 1969).Picture

I was checking in with Aptheker, the Communist historian, literary executor of W. E. B. Du Bois and, at the time, my “boss,” at his AIMS office to see if he had research tasks for me. The casual announcement was my idea of chit-chat.

Herbert ApthekerEarlier that year I had dropped into Hook’s office at 25 Waverly Place to ask about the class. As a young Red, I couldn’t pass up the chance to meet this infamous anti-communist in the flesh.

A letter of mine in support of Angela Davis, then on trial for aggravated kidnapping and first degree murder, appeared recently in the student newspaper. I had forgotten about it.

After a few minutes of chit-chat I rose and turned to leave. But before reaching the door . . . 

“What did you say your name was?”

Busted. I complied.

“This should be very interesting.”

“Yes,” I muttered.

Continue reading “Sidney Hook: a halfway house for a recovering Stalinist”