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February 21, 2001: On the Campus Driving
Ms. Davis By Annie Ruderman '01
I was undaunted. How
was she planning to get into New York, I wanted to know. If she
didn't have any prior travel arrangements, I could drive her
in exchange for an interview. (I planned to put a tape recorder
in what used to be my ashtray.) I have to admit I was
surprised when she agreed. After all, my mother won't even
get into the car when I'm behind the wheel. (In fairness to
Professor Davis, I did not mention the fact that I have had encounters
with both the garage and the tree at the end of the driveway back
home. I did, however, warn her that I have accrued two moving violations
in my time, one for going too slowly.) It felt like a ride with
a brilliant grandmother. We discoursed and we blundered and perhaps
I am venturing on the threshold of disrespect by offering the tale
of our travails here. But we did miss the Lincoln Tunnel. I did
get three flat tires driving down 44th Street. And we did have a
very serious conversation about which way was east and which way
was west when we entered New York City. But my thesis is the better
for it.
Professor Davis is dishing
out ideas for one chapter when we turn the wrong way into New York
City and talking me through potential pitfalls of another when it
starts to sound like we are driving over a bridge. Only there are
no bridges on the stretch of 44th Street around Times Square. We
pull over and park just in time to save the back fender from hitting
the ground. Actually, it isn't
just one, but three flat tires, but I don't find that out until
later. Professor Davis leaves for her dinner engagement, a short
walk away. I spend an hour registering for AAA and two hours waiting
for them to come. It is well past midnight when they dump me at
a ramshackle all-night used-tire stand. I receive three new used
tires for $50 and am finally ready to head back to Princeton, inspired.
But the car won't
start. Somehow the battery has begun to leak acid all over the engine.
It is 1:30 a.m. I must look pretty desperate because I manage to
persuade a guy in a tuxedo, his limo driver, a serious man who is
blocked in behind me, and a tow-truck driver to push my car into
a nearby gas-station lot. Annie's running pages/fines tally: Pages: 15 (count 'em, 15); Fines: $38.75. February is comeback time. (ruderman@princeton.edu)
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Natalie
Zemon Davis is a legendary figure in the ranks of the Princeton
University history department. A while back she wrote an account
of this 16th-century French guy who pretends that he's another
French guy, and it basically changed the way the historical profession
works. (The Return of Martin Guerre was later made into two movies.)
Plus, she can remember a time when departmental meetings were an
almost-all-male affair. With those credentials I figured she'd
be an ideal candidate to interview for my thesis, which is a historiography
of Princeton history department senior theses.
So
I sent an e-mail Professor Davis's way: Would the now Canada-based
professor be coming to Princeton any time before April 10? I was
in luck -- she actually wrote back! -- she'd be here
for a dissertation defense mid-December. But she had to go to New
York City straight away; maybe we could meet for a few minutes,
but an interview? Sorry. 
Our
journey begins bumping down Route 1 with little commotion and even
less inspiration. All is humdrum as we cover the usual suspects:
her time at Princeton, the courses she taught, the students she
remembers. Then I ask about E. P. Thompson, whose 1963 The Making
of the English Working Class altered social history, and we miss
the Lincoln Tunnel, and calamity and conversation grow up together.
By the time we pull into the Howard Johnson in Hackensack to ask
for directions, we are digging apart my thesis, and she is a half-hour
late for dinner. 
