Class Notes: October 8, 1997

'17 - '19 '20s '30s '40s
'50s '60s '70s
'80s '90s Graduate School

CLASS NOTES FEATURES


Looking back
A long day's journey to Princeton

by Peter Schwed '32

IN TODAY'S era of cable television and big-time college and professional football, you can watch 10 games in a weekend and not remember a single one. Seventy-five years ago, fans had fewer choices, and the effort required to see a game in person made them care more for their teams.
In the 1920s, when I was growing up on Long Island, one of the big events for our family each fall was the Princeton-Yale football game. Although he wasn't an alumnus, my father was a big fan of the Tigers, and each October he would pack us into our 1919 Cadillac Roadster and head to New Haven or Princeton for the big game. The car comfortably accommodated the six of us--Pop and Jim Wall, our chauffeur, in the front seat; Mother and me in the back seat; and my brothers, Fred and John, on jump seats pulled up from the floor.
In those days before interstates, traveling any distance by car was an ordeal. A round trip to Princeton took a minimum 10 hours of driving, not counting time for lunch and the game. Rather than subjecting the family to that much driving in a single day, Pop used to take time off from work so we could drive down the afternoon before the game. The first leg of our odyssey took us along Queens Boulevard, the only road leading from Long Island's south shore to Manhattan. That portion of the trip was only about 20 miles, but nobody drove fast then, so it took at least an hour. After crossing the Queensboro Bridge, we wended our way south and west across Manhattan to the downtown ferry, near Liberty Street. That took most of another hour. Then we waited, sometimes for another hour, for the ferry to carry us across the Hudson River. (There were no bridges or tunnels for automobile traffic between New York and New Jersey then, only the tunnel for the Pennsylvania Railroad.)
After three hours on the road we finally found ourselves in Jersey City, New Jersey. Princeton still lay 40 miles down the old Lincoln Highway (U.S. 1), which seemed to pass through every town on the map, with stoplights all the way. The only scenery of any real interest were the frequent advertisements for Burma Shave, whose message appeared on a series of signs along a 100-yard strip of highway. One of them I remember: PITY ALL . . . THE MIGHTY CAESARS . . . THEY PULLED EACH WHISKER . . . OUT WITH TWEEZERS . . . BURMA SHAVE
The sun was close to setting by the time Prince-ton's spires at last came into view on the horizon. But instead of stopping, we continued nine miles more, to Trenton, a surprisingly pleasant city back then, and one that boasted a splendid hotel, the Stacy Trent. There we had dinner, perhaps saw a show, and spent the night. The next morning we made our leisurely way back to Princeton in time to park the car on the grass near Palmer Stadium and eat our basket lunch (we were part of the "tailgate set" long before there were tailgates).
After the game we started home, and passed through New York City at about nine o'clock. We always stopped at Reuben's, a popular restaurant-delicatessen, where we found waiting for us a marvelous hamper of sandwiches, cheesecake, and hot drinks, which my father had ordered by phone. We ate this on the final leg of the trip home. As the youngster in the group, I was happily asleep before the cheesecake was served--happily, that is, if Princeton had won the game, which it usually did.
--Peter Schwed '32
Peter Schwed, a retired book editor, lives in New York City. This recollection is adapted from an autobiography in progress.

Service points
Cycling for blue (Louise Di Paolo '50), Abusive husband research (Edward Gondolf '70), Tuberculosis Initiative (Scott Regenbogen '97 and Celine Gounder '97)

Cycling for blue
LOUIS DIPAOLO '50, in an effort he calls Cycling for Blue, bicycled across the country this summer in support of the New York City Police Department's bike patrol, which began in 1992 with private donations. DiPaolo, who now has ridden across the country three times--in 1982, 1992, and 1997--is a big believer in cops on bikes. "Bike cops intrigue me. They feel good about what they do," he says. Police officers on bikes have increased visibility, are more in touch with people, and offer an improved response to calls for service.
DiPaolo rode the 3,500-mile route with two friends, accompanied by a support van. Along the way they met with police officers in villages, towns, and cities, encouraging them in the use of bike patrols. On the riders' last day, after they crossed the Hudson River between New Jersey and New York, New York's police commissioner and 350 police officers, representing every New York precinct, joined the DiPaolo trio at the George Washington Bridge and rode with them down the West Side Highway and into Police Plaza at City Hall. Besides raising awareness of the benefits of bike patrols, Cycling for Blue raised $25,000, which will go to the Police Reserve Association.
The trip began June 25. In May, DiPaolo attended a police bike-training school, where he learned such things as defensive and offensive tactics, jumping curbs, and riding up steps.
Cycling for Blue, NYC Police Reserve Association, 37 W. 32nd St., New York, NY 10001; 212-564-0010.

Abusive husband research
The majority of men who batter their wives and who receive mandatory treatment as the result of a court order do not physically abuse their partners again within the next 12 months, according to a recent study conducted by the Mid-Atlantic Addiction Training Institute (MAATI). EDWARD GONDOLF '70, associate director of research at MAATI, which is part of Indiana University of Pennsylvania, has spent his life as a researcher, program developer, and policymaker addressing violence against women. Gondolf's study tracked 840 wife-abusers who completed treatment programs ranging from three to nine months' duration. It found that regardless of the length of the program, 70 percent of the men cleaned up their act.
"This is an accomplishment considering the violent histories, prior arrests, personality problems, and substance abuse of the men," says Gondolf. "The fact that a three-month program did as well as the longer programs may be because it had tougher and swifter penalties for those who did not comply. Or it simply may take longer to see the benefits of a nine-month program." Gondolf was the lead researcher of the study, which was funded by the Centers for Disease Control.
MAATI, 1098 Oakland Ave., IUP, Indiana, PA 15705; 412-357-4749; egondolf@grove.iup.edu.

Tuberculosis Initiative
Tuberculosis, although curable, now kills three million people a year, more than any other infectious disease. The World Health Organization (WHO), which has declared a "global TB emergency," has made directly observed treatment, short-course (DOTS) a cornerstone of its treatment strategy.
SCOTT REGENBOGEN '97 and CELINE GOUNDER '97 work for the Tuberculosis Initiative, a project of Princeton Project 55, the Class of 1955's public interest organization. The Tuberculosis Initiative, led by Ralph Nader '55, is committed to establishing a coalition of TB control agencies worldwide to control the disease.
Regenbogen, who majored in neuroscience, manages the project's Princeton office, where he keeps in touch with the WHO, the Centers for Disease Control, and the National Institutes of Health; he is also organizing a conference, "Global Tuberculosis Pandemic: A Strategy for Unified Global Control and Ultimate Elimination," to be held next month at Johns Hopkins School of Hygiene and Public Health in Baltimore.
Gounder, who majored in biology, manages the Initiative's office in Washington, D.C., where she meets with legislative assistants to encourage government support for DOTS. One of the Initiative's aims is working to ensure that federal government appropriations are spent directly on treatment, the strategy the Initiative endorses, along with the WHO, to eradicate tuberculosis.
Princeton Project 55, 32 Nassau St., Princeton, NJ 08542; 609-921-7812; tbinj@aol.com.

Faith finds an online home
Charles Henderson '63's Internet church

WHILE MINISTER of the bricks-and-mortar Central Presbyterian Church of Montclair, New Jersey, Charles Henderson '63 had a bold idea: he wanted to transfer the concept of the community of faith from physical church buildings to the Internet. The move would extend his long-standing interest in the use of technology to explain the Christian message. And starting in May 1995, he did exactly that when he started the First Church of Cyberspace, or FCC, at www.execpc.com/~chender/.
He says, "It struck me that, for a local community of faith to reach out to a worldwide audience, the Internet was a remarkable opportunity that should not be missed. It has a tremendous ability to communicate at a low cost from a local level to people all over the world with graphics, music, and multimedia."
The FCC gives Henderson a forum to speak "as a Christian to a distinctly Christian audience." He now also oversees a Website with a more ecumenical format, www.aril.org, sponsored by the Association for Religion and Intellectual Life, an interfaith group based on the campus of the College of New Rochelle in New York. He became ARIL's executive director in 1996 and promptly made the website a major part of ARIL's efforts to attract more, and younger, members. Broader in scope than FCC, the ARIL site gives viewers access to the thinking of many faith traditions, organized in categories such as world religions, Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, Islam, and biblical resources. One link goes to the Interpreting Ancient Manuscripts Website, described as "all you ever wanted to know about paleography, and more." The site also contains articles from the ARIL journal, Cross Currents, such as "The Sefirot: Kabbalistic Archetypes of Mind and Creation."
An English literature major, Henderson attended Union Theological Seminary after graduation and served as assistant dean of the Chapel from 1969 to 1973. "It was a great time to be a university chaplain, a terrible time to be an administrator," he recalls. After returning to parish ministries in the 1970s, Henderson circled back to a more academic environment when he joined ARIL in early 1996. (Other ARIL-Princeton connections are Dean of the Chapel Joe Williamson, who is president of its board, and the Chapel Choir, whose sung version of the 23rd Psalm is on the site.)
Both the ARIL and FCC websites debuted at a time of great upheaval in religious life, with the Internet both benefiting from and contributing to the flux. In Henderson's view, "The Internet is part of a larger change in our culture that effects religious institutions profoundly. The major institutions that have shaped religious life in the United States are in freefall. That does not mean a lack of interest in spirituality, but that people are spiritual in a nontraditional way, apart from churches and denominational structures." Churches can either deny this reality, or adapt. For Henderson, the Internet carries the Gospel to an eager, if unchurched, audience.
FCC does so through sermons, reviews, traditional texts, and debates, even a spoof of Microsoft. Using the technology skillfully, the site provides fresh perspectives on various Biblical passages. A hypertext version of the 23rd Psalm, for example, presents the text with links to key words, such as shepherd and still waters, which lead to meditations and further links.
REPRESENTING THE OTHER SIDE
Some hot-button topics, including biblical criticism and homosexuality, have drawn criticism from more traditional viewers, opinions that Henderson shrugs off. "Some people don't like the other side being represented," he says. Indeed, the FCC site is an "intelligent alternative" to the 700 Club and the Christian Coalition. Those groups, he adds, are making more creative use of the Internet than mainline religious groups. "A college student who looks gets the impression that Christianity is equal to fundamentalism. My effort is to show there is an alternative. You don't have to believe that Noah packed all those animals on a boat to appreciate that the Bible is a tremendous resource."
The FCC and ARIL websites themselves are valuable resources, part of the move of mainstream religious groups into the Internet. They provide a steadying voice in an arena where, in many senses, anything goes. The mass suicide of the Internet-savvy Heaven's Gate group showed Henderson how the "chaos" of modern life can exacerbate dangerous tendencies in organizations. Technology, in turn, lets such groups directly deliver their messages to millions of computer users. He notes, "Groups that are not accountable to any higher authority or wider tradition can perpetuate themselves more successfully than ever in the digital age. That's why those of us who are coming out of traditional religious communities need to build new networks in which a measure of accountability is preserved. We won't be able to prevent future Heaven's Gate tragedies from occurring, of course, but at least we can offer a more responsible array of alternatives."
--Van Wallach '80

In his words
"Quit Snoring": A husband's attempt to bring peace to the bedroom
by Robert D. Huxley '64

IT WAS PROBABLY when my wife said she was going to write an article called "Hotel Bathtubs I Have Slept In" as part of a larger series entitled "Traveling with a Snorer" that I thought it was time to seriously consider what could be done about my snoring. Heredity had endowed me with a thicker than normal soft palate and a large uvula, the appendage which hangs down at the back of the mouth and that requires careful pronunciation. When these were combined with the loss of muscle tone common in middle age, the result was an Olympic snoring capability.
"Quit snoring!" Although my wife's nighttime admonition would gradually intrude on my subconscious, it had no lasting effect. On those nights when the noise level reached stentorian levels, she reported that even the animals, a dog and two cats, would move with her en masse to another bedroom.
My first move was to order the Harvard Medical School's booklet on sleep disorders. The section on snoring listed two procedures that could provide a cure, and neither one was pronounceable. They were performed by a doctor whose specialty was equally tongue twisting. Next, I called our family doctor to seek a recommendation for an otolaryngologist who could perform laser-assisted uvulopalatoplasty, or LAUP for short.
A week or so later, I met Dr. Schneider. He was the one doctor at New York Hospital who was able to do the LAUP. After ruling out obstructive sleep apnea, a potentially serious condition that involves blockage of the airway during sleep, he scheduled me for laser surgery. The procedure could be done one or more times, depending on which reduced level of snoring was acceptable to my wife. One fee of $2,200 covered the surgery whether it was done once or as many as five times. Dr. Schneider indicated he liked to take a fairly "aggressive" approach the first session. This, I subsequently learned, was medicalese for slash and burn.
He cautioned me to schedule the first surgery during a two-week period when I wasn't too busy because I would have the worst sore throat I'd ever had. Dr. Schneider performed the surgery early one morning before office hours. "I've been doing this for over two years, and it's still fun," he said.
The laser itself is a three-foot pedestal with a digital panel on top and a long metal cord attached to what looks like a ballpoint pen. Dr. Schneider anesthetized the roof of my mouth, revved up the laser to maximum power, and set to work using short bursts of red light. The laser cut through soft tissue quickly and painlessly, producing a thin plume of smoke with an odor something like burnt hair. I wondered whether my passion for outdoor grilling would survive the procedure.
The only other disagreeable part of the surgery occurred when the doctor attempted to remove the uvula. Even a laser can't remove it in one burst, and as it hung lower and lower before being severed, an uncomfortable gagging sensation ensued. By the end of the operation two deep trenches had been carved in the roof of my mouth with what passed for a new downsized uvula in between.
The procedure took 45 minutes. The doctor warned of the approaching sore throat from hell and fortified me with three prescriptions for pain killers. He said I was a good patient and reminded my wife that I was doing this for her. That sounded noble, but in fact I was doing it for us.
The soreness was undiminished for 10 days and then disappeared overnight. Medication reduced the sharpness of the pain except when eating. The good news was my wife reported a significant reduction in the level of my snoring from the very first night.
The second stage of recovery consisted of the healing and consequent tightening of the scar tissue over a period of six weeks. My snoring was still audible but not deafening. The doctor said another session with the laser would be less aggressive and would further reduce the noise level, but I would be unable to pronounce the guttural "ch" sound used in such languages as German and Hebrew. For a foreign language illiterate like myself that wasn't a problem. I was still having trouble pronouncing uvula correctly.
On being pressed, my wife allowed that perhaps more nighttime noise reduction would be nice, but I didn't have to do it for her. Like the doctor, she was missing the point. For me it was not a question of making some kind of sacrifice but rather doing something to smooth out a bump in a relationship. Besides, there was no way I was going to spend that kind of money on only one procedure when I could have one or more additional sessions for free.
The second round with the laser was a somewhat less intense replay of the first encounter, but it achieved its purpose: my snoring was reduced to a level acceptable to both the bipedal and quadrupedal branches of my family.

--Robert D. Huxley '64

Experiencing history through music
Susan Feder '76 nurtures composers, takes part in Hong Kong handover

AS VICE-PRESIDENT of classical music publisher G. Schirmer, Inc., Susan Feder '76 enjoys an unusual perspective on world history. The affairs of nations and individuals often inspire composers, who need music publishers to protect their works. At Schirmer, Feder oversees and nurtures a collection of artists with such credits as Music for Prague 1968, From the Diary of Anne Frank, and X (The Life and Times of Malcolm X).
"It's fascinating to see the choices people make," observes Feder. "Aaron Kernis's Second Symphony was a response to the Gulf War. Bright Sheng's H'un was a memorial to the Cultural Revolution in China, which he lived through."
Through her work, Feder had an on-the-scene role in this summer's handover of Hong Kong from British to Chinese rule. She found herself there because the Association for Celebration of Reunification of Hong Kong commissioned Schirmer composer Tan Dun to write music to be played at handover events, with a full premiere several days later. A native of China who now lives in the U.S., Tan created a 65-minute work called Symphony 1997 (Heaven Earth Mankind) that featured cellist Yo-Yo Ma, a children's choir, orchestra, and "bianzhong"--a set of 64 Chinese bells made 2,400 years ago.
"I negotiated the contract with the association on the composer's behalf and oversaw the production and promotion issues. Schirmer was the hub of a very complicated wheel," notes Feder.
The wheel had numerous spokes, each a major project. Live excerpts from the work were to be played just after the handover, on the morning of July 1, with prerecorded excerpts played at a sound-and-light show that night. Tan would then conduct the world premiere on July 4, followed by a repeat performance the next night at the Great Hall of the People in Beijing. On July 5, Sony Classics released the Symphony 1997 CD to capitalize on the intense media interest in Tan and the handover.
Ominous articles in the American press about the handover ratcheted up the tension level as Feder juggled artistic, promotional, legal, and logistical challenges. The thorough preparation paid off, however, once Feder arrived in Hong Kong. "Because of the five-day holiday there and the fact that conductors are better looked after than composers, I actually had less to do than usual," she says. The pace eased and she could experience the historical moment, one marked by "a tremendous national pride and optimism" by Hong Kong residents that contrasted sharply with the gloomy American view. "On the night of June 30, Tan Dun, Yo-Yo Ma, and I were partying at the Regent Hotel watching the handover on a TV monitor," she recalls.
The reception of the music gave Feder a great sense of accomplishment. Its mix of modern and traditional elements enthralled the audience, and capped a development process that Feder and her colleagues have nurtured for five years, ever since Schirmer signed Tan when he was a graduate student at Columbia University, "creating music unlike anything we had heard before."
Participating in the handover was the latest musical interlude for Feder. Trained in violin as a child, she majored in music and the European Cultural Studies program at Princeton. She taught music for a year in Rome, then did graduate studies at the University of California at Berkeley. Feder began working as program editor for the San Francisco Symphony in 1979, hired by Mi-chael Steinberg '49 *51 when he became the symphony's artistic adviser. She became editorial coordinator of the New Grove Dictionary of American Music in 1981. In 1986 she joined Schirmer as director of promotion and became vice-president two years later.
The confluence of work and history began soon after. Because Schirmer had a contract with the Soviet copyright agency, VAAP, Feder was able to visit Russia and Armenia in 1988, during the heady days of glasnost. Accompanying Schirmer composer John Adams and others, she found Russian musicians felt free to discuss their work openly with foreign colleagues. She could see the nation changing, noting, "Later, I watched the breakup of the Soviet Union through the perspective of its leading composers." As an example, she cites Giya Kancheli, a Georgian now living in Europe, whose recent works have titles suggesting the difficulties he has endured: Life Without Christmas, Left So I Would Not Have to See, and Land Without Color.
Enveloped by classical and popular music in Schirmer's New York offices all day, Feder herself has eclectic tastes, preferring "good music of all kinds," from jazz to Indian music. She is married to Todd Gordon, a lawyer and legal publisher; they have two children. The family lives in Irvington, New York, where they are restoring a 150-year-old carriage house.
--Van Wallach '80

Cavities? Never fear, lasers are here
(David Winn '76)

DAVID WINN '76 is one of five dentists in the country who have tested new laser technology developed to make some standard dental procedures pain free. Winn, who practices dentistry in Colorado Springs, participated in clinical studies for the approval of a new laser system that will--if most patients have anything to say about it--replace the traditional drill and novocaine for removing decay.
The laser, erbium YAG or Er:YAG, was approved by the Food and Drug Administration last May for use on adults. In the preapproval trials, Winn performed 300 procedures, and in only five instances did patients stop Winn to ask for anesthetic.
The laser, operating at different power levels, can remove decay, enamel, or dentine by essentially blasting the tissue at the same wavelength as water so that the tissues, which contain differing amounts of water, vibrate so fast they vaporize. With a steady hand, a quick blast, and a quiet pop--poof!--the decayed matter is gone without pain. Patients and dentists must wear goggles during treatment to protect their eyes from the intense light beams.
Winn says the laser is safer than the traditional drill because it is only effective at distances of less than 1 millimeter. A patient who jerks her head while the dentist is using the old-fashioned drill runs a greater risk of receiving an injury than a patient under the laser.
Winn, who used the laser system on members of his family, says, "I wouldn't hesitate to have it used on me." He plans to train other dentists in the use of the laser system, which has an approximate price tag of $39,000.

Shoot 'em where they lay
Michael Colopy '78 is a master photographer and a consultant on China

MICHAEL COLOPY '78 confesses an obsession with birds and other forms of wildlife. He also loves to take pictures. "Wildlife photography has been a natural outgrowth of a farm upbringing and exposure to top- flight avifauna experts since I was eight," he says. "A local pharmacist who was an avid camera buff got me started by suggesting that an upcoming Princeton-in-Asia summer project should be documented on film." His first wildlife photo was of an eagle he saw while on a trip to Afghanistan, as part of PIA.
Colopy, who makes a living as a consultant on business development in China, Taiwan, and other Asian countries, shot the photograph of the great horned owl (left) near the Pine Barrens, in southern New Jersey, two years ago. An exhibit of his photos begins next month at the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge, in Virginia.
Colopy, who briefs business executives on political changes in China and on potential investments in Asia, also lectures about wildlife photography. An early script he wrote for a nature documentary, Shoot 'em Where They Lay, which was shelved six years ago as being too facetious in tone, will go into production early next year.
--Lolly O'Brien

Greg Linteris '79 *80 experiments in space

LAST JULY aboard NASA's shuttle flight STS-94, Gregory Linteris '79 *90 flew as a payload specialist, conducting droplet-combustion experiments on various compounds, including heptane, propane, and methanol.
Linteris had first gone aloft in April, but the mission was aborted due to a fuel cell difficulty. The July flight, which lasted 17 days, was considered an unqualified success by Linteris and the many Princeton participants, including Frederick Dryer *72, a professor in the Mechanical and Aerospace Engineering Department, who was a coinvestigator for the experiments, and primary investigator Foreman Williams '55, a professor at the University of California at San Diego.
Linteris, who applied for the payload specialist's job in 1995, performed hundreds of experiments on fuel droplets in 33 separate investigations. Experiments included measuring droplets, flames, and individual molecules.
Performing combustion experiments in space, in what is called microgravity, is important because with little or no gravity, there is no buoyancy to gas and no disturbing effects when the gas is lit.
"If we can predict what happens in combustion, then we can control it. Practical devices can then be designed based on what we know," he says. "Combustion science is essential for our economy. Ninety percent of our energy use is through combustion. We spend $300-400 billion a year on energy."
Linteris, who is a scientist at the National Institute of Standards and Technology, in Gaithersburg, Maryland, hopes to come to Princeton this semester to present memorabilia, including two Princeton banners he took on the flight and to give talks on his work in space.
--Lolly O'Brien


paw@princeton.edu