Category Archives: Remarkable Friends

Who?? Happy Birthday to One of the Most Important Quaker Writers Most of Us Never Heard of

Milton Mayer was born on August 24, 1908. He was a journalist, scholar,  moral philosopher, terrific writer — and a Quaker.

A Jewish Quaker.

A southerner Jewish Quaker.

He wrote some of the most potent, challenging, memorable Quaker essays and books of the past century. He was also funny.

He and his work deserve to be remembered and re-examined now, 39 years after his death in 1986. Not only because of the excellent writing, but because his over-arching subject, which was facing/surviving authoritarian/totalitarian government — is now our over-arching crisis.

He predicted this rise, warned of it, analyzed its coming and impact in his lifetime. And he tracked how ordinary people reacted, resisted, or reinforced tyranny.

Mayer’s story was told in a probing summary essay by a top Quaker historian, H. Larry Ingle, in the journal, Quaker Theology. Here is  Ingle’s incisive sketch:

Milton Mayer, Quaker Hedgehog

A Review and Profile, by H. Larry Ingle

Reprinted from Quaker Theology #8, 2003

Oxford-educated political scientist Isaiah Berlin, in his minor classic “The Hedgehog and the Fox” (1953), divided people into two groups, those who understood one big thing like the hedgehog and those, like the fox, who knew many things.

Milton Mayer

The subject of this essay was a hedgehog who throughout his life concerned himself with one common theme, the threat of state authority over the individual; this threat emerged, he insisted, because individuals permitted it by not resisting the state’s encroachments.

During the current period, a time of mounting concern about civil liberties and individual rights, especially in the face of mounting governmental authority, it is wise to consider one of the best known Friends of the twentieth century. I write of Milton Mayer (1908-86), now mostly forgotten but well worth recalling because he illustrated a significant, continuing, and newly-timely strain in Quaker thinking.

A newspaperman and magazine columnist, Mayer wrote and edited numerous books and turned out reams of personal essays for the Progressive, a journal that carried his byline for nearly forty years. His best known and most important book was his study of ten average Germans from 1933 to 1945, They Thought They Were Free, a work he published a decade after the war when he lived in Germany and interviewed residents of that defeated nation.

No one has done a biographical study of Mayer, although he left numerous references to his personal experiences in his essays and books, so it is only a matter of digging out the factual details to put his life into context.

Born in Chicago of a German Jewish father and an English-born mother, Mayer was educated in the public schools of the city where he reminded readers constantly, he received a classical education with a heavy emphasis on Latin and languages; he graduated from Englewood High School. His Reform Jewish family was well enough off that young Milton visited Germany probably after World War I.

His self-composed entry in Who’s Who in America for 1984 refers only to his being a student at the University of Chicago from 1925 to 1928, without mentioning that he did not earn a degree. Mayer apparently left the University the year before the thirty-year-old Robert Maynard Hutchins became president in 1929. He told the Saturday Evening Post in 1942 that he was “placed on permanent probation in 1928 for throwing beer bottles out a dormitory window, ‘failing, however, to hit the dean.’” (“Keeping Posted, March 28, 1942) Their lives would be intertwined until Hutchins’s death in 1977, and Mayer’s widow would oversee the publication of a biography her husband had penned of his friend. This unorthodox study, Robert Maynard Hutchins: A Memoir, published in 1993 by the University of California Press, offers insights into the genesis of Mayer’s development that are absent from his other writings.

After leaving the University, Mayer worked as a reporter for the Chicago Evening Post for nine years and married his first wife Bertha Tepper; the couple had two daughters. They were divorced in 1945, and two years later he married Jane Scully, who would become well-known as “Baby” or, after protests from feminists, “Ms. Baby,” to readers of his magazine columns. These details come from the Who’s Who entry, but the Hutchins biography reveals that Mayer had gone to work for William Randolph Hearst’s Chicago American sometime during the early 1930s, covering the University of Chicago from which position he met Hutchins.

Preparing an article for that paper, he read Hutchins’s 1935 commencement address to the graduates at the University, and his life was changed. In words that Mayer would echo and re-echo, again and again, Hutchins told his auditors that they faced a life that would corrupt them, tempting them to become safe, sound, agreeable, and inoffensive, giving them habits of timidity. “Believe me,” Hutchins pointedly warned, “you are closer to the truth now than you will ever be again.” (Mayer: 1993, 3-5) . . . .

Read the full article at this link — no paywall or registration:

Resistance Vacation Reading #3 — Revelation On Rose Street — And the Fate of Religious Radicals

Revelation on Rose Street

New York City – A Fine Autumn Day in 1843

New York harbor, circa 1843

I was still feeling a bit weak that first Day morning, after several days in bed with a bilious fever. But I was now better, and the weather in New York was fair.
My good wife agreed that a walk to Meeting would likely do me good. It was only four blocks to Rose Street, after all.

Several men Friends were milling around near the broad meetinghouse steps, on their way into the plain brick building. But one lingered, not going in. His tall figure was unmistakable even though his grey coat and broadbrim hat were like all the others.
It was Simon Goodloe, and he was standing on the top step, looking over and past the rest, evidently waiting for someone. And I thought that someone must be me, because as soon as he recognized me he came striding down the steps, long legs moving like those of a graceful grey crane, and extended his hand.

“Jacob Hicks, I heard thee was ill,” he said, his grip firm.

“I’m better,” I answered, “but grateful to be here.”

Continue reading Resistance Vacation Reading #3 — Revelation On Rose Street — And the Fate of Religious Radicals

Finding Love (& Living In Sin) In the Library

I never fell in love in a library.

But several times I fell in love with a library, and the experience repeatedly changed my life.

The first time came flooding back yesterday, when I saw this news report from AP:

Hegseth, AGAIN?? Sheesh, every time I turn around, he’s messing with me: this time with important memories.

“Army and Air Force libraries have been told to go through their stacks to find books related to diversity, equity and inclusion, according to new memos obtained by The Associated Press.

The orders from service leaders come about two weeks after the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland, removed nearly 400 books from its library after being told by Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth’s office to get rid of those that promote DEI.”

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A Sparkling New Podcast on “Tell It Slant” – The Biography of Chuck Fager

Announcing A Brand-New, free podcast, now online at the link below:

Tell It Slant-Podcast with Emma, Chuck & Mark

Continue reading A Sparkling New Podcast on “Tell It Slant” – The Biography of Chuck Fager

Henry Taylor: A Quaker Poet Departs — A Holiday Read

Late  one spring morning in 1986, I was creeping along the edge of Ox Road, Virginia route 123, driving with one hand, and shoving mail into the boxes on posts with the other.  I was a substitute rural mail carrier,  working a route just south of the seemingly nonexistent town of Fairfax Station.

FairfaxStation-VA-Sign

Beyond the mailboxes, prefab McMansions were going up on every side, as fast as the builders could hammer them together.

It was the second year of Ronald Reagan’s second term, and the woods along Ox Road were swarming with smalltime winners in the stampede for the billions  that the Gipper and his cronies were shoveling into a grand military buildup. The new settlers were devouring the woods along Ox Road like nuclear powered termites. Their contract profits were  pouring with the concrete under the rows of McMansions, markers of their status as suburban arrivistes.

My Malibu wagon, for postal work. (I didn’t wear a tie delivering the mail.)

Reagan’s frantic rearmament was meant to drive the Evil Empire of Communist Russia into bankruptcy and oblivion trying to match it.

The bankruptcy drive was ultimately successful, but the big plan soon capsized like the Titanic after the iceberg, sunk by the unexpected vigor of the aftermath:  who could have suspected that the Commies’ dark oblivion would turn out to be a den full of new monsters?

Continue reading Henry Taylor: A Quaker Poet Departs — A Holiday Read