A n O r a l H i s t o r y O f C o l u m b i a C o l l e g e C h i c a g o

C a t h e r i n e S l a d e

. . . Inter v iewing Cather ine S lade,

on the 20th, is that r ight , o f

November?

I think so.

1998, Saturday. And thank you

for ca l l ing . I wonder i f we cou ld

star t at the beg inn ing, wi th when

you came to Co lumbia and what

brought you there .

Well, um, let’s see... I came toColumbia, I think, in about 1968,and I graduated in ‘71, and I wasjust sort of, um, out there. I hadbeen in school in the South, amusic major, and it was a, youknow, really traditional conserva-tory program, where there was noroom for, you know, personal reve-lation or any, um, sense of myself inrelation to what I was learning,myself in relationship when I waslearning. It was more, you know, Iwas dealing with the paradigm ofsomeone who knows, and I don’tknow. And that’s what learning waslike, you know, so it was sort of acontinuation of that sort of life ofprimary school.

Yeah.

And I just was unable to findmyself in that situation, and I knewthat I needed to finish college, andI knew that music, as it was, wasnot enough for me, just, you know,to get a degree in music educationand play the piano and the organ,you know. I mean, it just wasn’t—

You were an organ ist and p ian ist?

You know, I was looking for adifferent way, a different way ofbeing in the world, and a sense ofmeaning and purpose in perform-ance. I mean, as it was, my experi-ence with learning before was, like,good enough or not good enough.You know?

Mm-hmm.

I mean, there was—I wasn’t askedto think (laughs), you know, I wasasked to perform. And so, youknow, I was searching, I was reallysearching, and it was that kind oftime where everybody in Americawas, like, looking to discover lifeon personal terms, you know. Theywere no longer fitting in modesand whatnot, it was the late ‘60s,the early ‘70s, you know, everyonehad a purpose, was committed to asocial ideal. Before I came toColumbia I had been in NorthCarolina working for the textileunions, to union organize.

Oh, my.

And SNCC was going on, youknow, all through the South. Thewomen’s movement was on the rise,you know, the antiwar movementwas on the rise—and all thesethings were happening in theculture, that, you know, I mean, sothere was a lot to listen to, andbeing in America, you know, anAfrican-American, it’s a call toconsciousness and a call to attendon, you know, where you were inthe bigger picture.

Mm-hmm.

So, there you are. And I was toldabout Mike Alexandroff.

Ah. I ’m cur ious , who to ld you?

You know, I don’t know, I mean, Idon’t really remember how all thatcame about. Oh, I do remember. Ihad a friend whose name was Frank[Cornecker], and he was a struc-tural engineer who has since passed.He was Hungarian, I believe. Ibelieve Frank did the structuralengineering for Marina City. Hewas a genius, and I was workingpart-time in a little office duringmy theoretical Marxist period

(laughs), you know, reading all thebig heavy books, and I was lost,you know, I was lost. I was 21, 20,something like that, yeah, and hejust sort of knew where I belonged.He said, “You know, you shouldlook into acting, my dear,” becauseI had done writing, I had donesome work with the public—Chicago Defender, I was—

So wai t , were you a Ch icagoan to

begin wi th?

Yeah.

OK. So you sa id you were a mus ic

major down South.

I had a scholarship to Tennessee.

I see.

I don’t really want to mention theschool, I don’t want to bad raptheir program, you know.

But you had a Ch icago connect ion

f rom the star t?

Yeah, I grew up here.

OK, OK.

So—and you know, I mean,

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Tennessee State is renowned for itsmusic, but it’s more like, youknow, great people have come fromTennessee State. It’s just that thatwas my experience there as a pianoplayer, music major, you know, wasgoing the classical route. But itwasn’t right for me.

Did you have sense o f companion -

sh ip in these fee l ings there?

Huh?

Did other peop le fee l the same

way?

Where?

In Tennessee.

Uh, well, actually, you know, theschool was a—it was a great school,but, you know, you have to realizethat it’s a pretty—the music worldwas a male kingdom, and as awoman, fitting in, it’s kinda funny.I wasn’t on the jazz route, so therewas this sort of really hip thinghappening with jazz at the school.The band was all men, 100 players,so I got to be a majorette, but Icouldn’t play.

Uh-huh.

You know, so there was a lot ofrestrictions that were there for awoman. I mean, it was a great placeto be for having fun and partyingand all that kind of stuff, but I’venever been that kind of person. I’venever been interested in... youknow, hanging out and just sort ofpartying and not taking my lifeseriously, even then. I was really,really searching.

Huh. So your f r iend urged you to

take up act ing?

Well, he said, “You are an actress,my dear,” and really, he was right,because I loved literature, I alwayshave, and writing was somethingthat I wished to do. I’m writingthese days, but at that time, I just

didn’t have the self-discipline to sitalone in a room with the type-writer. So I had written somepoetry, and some short stories andthings like that, so there was thatlove. There was the music on theother end, so the theater was theperfect place to combine all of mytalents and interests. And it was aplace that allowed me to be expres-sive, you know, to be imaginative.It wasn’t a matter of—like what Ihad said, was my training in musicwas a matter of learning, of comingnot knowing to learn technique,you know, technique, you have toget your technique, you know.

Right , r ight .

So, anyway, I hope that’s enoughstuff around that.

Yeah. So you were to ld about

Mike A lexandro f f , and then what?

Well, um, I mean it was just—yeah, I came over to Columbia, andI remember having a conversationand just really being sort ofawestruck by—as a listener, youknow, as a student, you know, Ibecame a listener, rather than astudent, if you can understand that.I mean, it was a [felt] shift, youknow, that it was more about some-thing being revealed to me, and mylife learning was taking on this newcharacter rather than something Ihad to perform on a test, you know,a concert, it was just a shift inknowing what school was aboutand for, you know? It was liketaking on a new truth. And it wasalso understanding that coming toColumbia, you know, it was likeone goes on their own human jour-ney, and that includes the possibil-ity of failure, because I was askedthen to, you know, get involvedwith my own ideas, which, ofcourse, I, you know, I didn’t knowwhat I wanted. But I was asked aquestion, to think about my ownmission, and why an artist, and

how important it was for me tohave a clear picture of who I was,and who I—well, who do you thinkyou are? (Laughs) Just, you know, Imean, I got hauled into a realm ofreverence for learning, you know,that was—it changed my lifecompletely.

Hmm. Can you—

I mean, then there was direction,you know, then there was... a wayof determining what I was going todo next, you know? I mean, either,you know, as a theater person, youknow, I could get to be an inter-preter of someone else’s work, or Icould get to choose, you know, Icould get to choose what I wantedto do, what I wanted to say, why Iwas doing the work. You know, Iwas asked to participate in mychoices, and that was the extraordi-nary role that Mike played, JimO’Reilly, the great Jim O’Reilly—did you know Jim?

No. Te l l me about J im O’Rei l l y.

Well, Jim was the chairman ofTheater, and there was another—Don Sanders was there for a time,but Jim O’Reilly was the chairmanof Theater when I was at Columbia,and he was one of Chicago’s great-est treasures, as a communicatorand artist, thespian, educator,leader... He was an extraordinarilycreative man who stressed the roleof creativity and imagination inlearning, you know? I mean, itwasn’t about just learning the linesto a play, you know, I mean, think-ing was critical, learning was criti-cal, and—because as an actor, youcan end up being a puppeteer, youknow, going through somedramatic experience that’s definedby a director. So his only directionwas, like, one’s role was defined,you know, in terms of an artist, acreator in the world. It was extraor-

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dinary. I mean, to feel—you know,radiating... to have a sense of self-radiating in that way, through theexpressive arts, the expressive arts, Imean, just, you know, the nomen-clature changed. Everythingchanged. I mean, that’s what—Imean, Columbia, like, was thisincredible revelation in terms of myown personal growth, in terms ofunderstanding what learning andeducation was about, what relation-ships to teachers, you know, andthat, in turn, relating to subjectmatter with subjectivity in relationto what I was learning, appropriat-ing that, you know, how is thismeaningful in my life, I mean,just—it was a holistic experiencethat just—

Wel l , what do you—I’m cur ious

now, do you—

I know I’m not being clear, butthat’s hard for me, I mean, I’m justsort of...

No, no, no , th is makes per fect

sense, but I ’m wonder ing, can

you po int to the teachers , po int

to someth ing about the st ructure ,

po int to the students , po int to

just the atmosphere? Is there any

one o f these that , sor t o f , i s

espec ia l l y. . . gets the cred i t fo r

creat ing th is exper ience, r ea l l y?

Well, Bill Russo was there, and Billhad his wonderful music groupsthat were doing the Civil War andAesop’s Fables and... I worked withBill, you know, just—it’s hard forme now, ‘cause it’s so long ago, toremember teachers specifically.There was... oh my God, thewoman from the Goodman, I justcan’t recall her name right now.You know what you ought to letme do? You ought to give me yourquestions. I can continue this withyou, if you don’t mind.

Wel l , um—

And I can just ask—‘cause I’ve justforgotten, and I really would liketo, you know, be as thorough as Ican.

Wel l , maybe I cou ld—I wonder i f I

cou ld sor t o f p roceed with some

other th ings, and maybe we cou ld

come back to th is , in that fash -

ion , a l i t t le b i t la ter. Would that

be poss ib le?

Yeah.

I was gonna ask you i f you

remembered, sor t o f , what

c lasses, any o f the c lasses you

were s igned up fo r. Were they a l l

in theater?

Yeah, but see, you’re asking mequestions now that are hard forme...

Yeah, yeah. . . d id you take

courses in—

I had theater classes, I had musicclasses. I had creative writingclasses.

Anyth ing l ike te lev is ion?

No, I don’t think so.

Dance?

I don’t think I... I think I had... Ithink Schultz was there. Wasn’tJohn there at that time?

Uh, I th ink r ight a round then.

Yeah, yeah, I th ink so . I th ink so .

I ’m not good on these dates ,

prec ise ly, e i ther.

Right. I remember I did thecreative writing, and it was reallyfun.

Hmm. Te l l me about some o f the

other students , when you were a

student .

Oh, well, the students, I mean, thatwas, you know, I mean, it was—Columbia was, like, the hub of thecity, I mean, everybody was there.Everybody there was, like, really

involved in everything, you know,people were, like, doing shows inthe city, running—you know, PaulSills, Grimm’s Fairy Tales, VictoriaGardens was on the—I mean, youknow, it was just, like, GrandCentral Station in terms of—Imean, everybody who taught therewas a working professional, so, youknow, you were involved in theirlives and off to see their work inthe evening. It was just—I mean,all of the sudden, it was like a littleNew York City. It was just great. Itwas just great, you know, thiswonderful building, the old[Crafts] Building down there on—Ithink—was that at 540?

540 Lake Shore .

Yeah. It was... it was just reallywonderful being there, I mean,people knew your name, it was, youknow, people would call me byname and I had no idea who theywere, you know. So there was thissense of care and recognition andvalidation that was just in the envi-ronment, you know, the environ-ment was exciting, you know, wewere empowered, we were asked todo our own work and become—youknow, messengers and teachersourselves. I remember when I wasin school there, I went off andstarted a theater workshop on theWest Side—I mean, I went andstarted it. I mean, it gave me suchbelief in myself that to think—Ithink, therefore, I am, I can do, youknow, what are my intentions here?I can enter the world with purpose,you know. I started a workshop atthe County Jail—

Wow!

That was volunteer, that ended upstatewide, I mean, all of thesethings were a part of, like, thissense of power and commitmentthat was, you know, just—sort of—

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I mean, it was the mission messageof the school, you know. If youwant to do, you can do.

Tel l me about th is—at the ja i l .

Th is sounds interest ing, espe -

c ia l l y interest ing and a b i t

unusua l .

Mm-hmm.

What was i t l ike? How d id you do

i t?

Well, I just went over and saw thewarden, and I said—you know, “Iwant to start a theater workshop.”

Did you have a connect ion?

And I remember, I was doing... Ihad—you know, you had to haveprojects when you were there, so asa project, I decided I was gonna goover to the County Jail and start atheater workshop and I—

Did you dream th is up?

Yeah.

Wow.

I dreamed it up because, you know,I mean, I’m working with BillRusso, he’s doing the Civil Wars,you know, everybody had a realsense of what was going on—poli-tics, you know, I mean, it was notabout “Let’s be entertainers andmake some money.” It was just like“Why do you want to be an artist,”you know? What—

And they let you do th is at the

ja i l?

Huh?

They let you do th is at the ja i l?

They let me do it, you know, theylet me do it, it was, like—it was toawaken possibilities in the, youknow, like, population, the inmatepopulation that was there, youknow, to tap into their... expressiveneeds and allow them a sense ofcreativity and self-esteem, you

know, to like, sort of, create somesort of tension between possibilitiesother than where they are rightnow, you know, what they mightdo in the world if they were not inthis jail experience. It was aboutusing the jail experience for learn-ing, and...

So d id you walk in there wi th a ,

you know, 10 cop ies o f th is

scr ipt o f Hamlet and have them

do th is , o r what d id you do? D id

you have them wr i te someth ing?

No, we evolved all our text. Imean, like I said, from doing stufflike the Story Workshop, I mean,you knew you could go in andmake it fit. You just knew youcould do it, and, you know, likeyouth is, you just don’t even thinkabout not doing what you want todo, you’re just determined and outthere. So we evolved our texts. No,all of our texts were texts that cameout of their own personal journeysand stories and don’t forget, at thattime, just like right now, there wasthis very strong underground—itwasn’t underground, it was a move-ment of the poets, and... sort of thebards of the last poets, you know,making albums, and that was reallyhot stuff. There were poetry read-ings everywhere, so everybodywanted to do these things. It waslike, you just could ask the ques-tion, make the call, to do some-thing different, you know, to seedifferent possibilities in existence.And I got that from what had justhappened to me. I mean, it’s yearslater, I can look back and give somedefinition to it, I mean, I certainlywasn’t thinking like that at thetime, I was, like, doing my work.

Now, d id you do th is wi th any

other Co lumbia peop le?

Um... no. I mean, I didn’t have anyother Columbia people on the jobwith me, no.

So how long d id th is go on, at

the ja i l? Was i t , l ike , a semes -

ter ’s p ro ject , o r a year?

It eventually ended up a statewidefunding program, with The FreeStreet Theaters of Chicago. Youknow, I asked Patrick Henry, whowas a director, if, you know, I couldjoin with their organization, andthen, you know, he raised themoney. David Mamet worked withme. David had just come back toChicago, I needed a playwright, soI recruited David, and we went offtogether.

To the ja i l?

Yeah. Pontiac, downstate, Dwight,county jail, Statesville, there was—where was it... over there on theWest Side, the Audie Home. Youknow, we got around.

Now, you sa id you d idn ’ t just

come to just be enter ta iners or

anyth ing, and that you had a

st rong sense o f what you were

do ing. D id you have a sense that

you were gonna get some k ind o f

a job at the end o f your t ime as a

student at Co lumbia? Or what?

Well, actually, um... because I hadbeen in college and out of college,and back in, I was always working.I always had both lives. I mean, Iwas mature, I wasn’t a kid at homewith my parents taking care of me.I had my own apartment and what-not. And then after I had done the[volunteer] program and I askedPatrick Henry, he fundraised—see,there was plenty of money around,he got money, so I had a salary. Anice one. It wasn’t great, but at thetime, I mean, how much do youneed if you’re in college, really? Imean, really, in college, you know,being—getting by is part of it.

Now, is that typ ica l o f the other

students at that t ime?

Well, yeah, everybody was doing

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stuff. I mean, the other theaterstudents who were involved withPaul Sills and that company even-tually, you know, ended up in NewYork with the Grimm’s Fairy Tales.I mean, that was the thing, thatstudents were involved in the artis-tic life of the city. And so there youwere learning, I mean, you couldwalk out and see, you know, likeyour teachers or your mentors, youknow, you could come to theUniversity of Chicago and therewas Jim, playing Lear, you know, asa star in the city. So there was thisgreat sense of community, of thegreater Chicago community, notthat kind of isolated sense ofanother world that you have whenyou’re in a university, you knowwhat I mean, where you’re sort ofliving in never-never land. No, wewere extended. And Columbia hasthat strength today, where itsfaculty is a part of the local andnational picture, you know, thatthey are involved, and they canoffer opportunities to studentsand—you know, I get calls all thetime from students for their otherprojects that are happening outsideof the school. These are kids, I justhad a call this morning—some-body’s getting ready to get herbook published, and she wants totake a voice class with me nextsemester because she’s planning onmaking a CD and—do you seewhat I’m saying? So there’s thatkind of entrepreneurial spirit thatcertainly was there in the old days,because, I mean, everybody was anentrepreneur, it was that sort ofmaverick spirit that created theschool.

And the boundar ies between

school and l i fe a re not ver y

st rong, i f they ’ r e at a l l .

No. There’s a sense of our familyand our community. Which ismuch more like a family. You know

what I mean? It’s like, there’s yournucleus family that functionswithin the community, and sothat’s more of an appropriate para-digm, rather than the hallowedwalls that, you know, that you arein, isolation, cloistered in, whereyou do your learning, and then youhave to do a re-entry. (Laughs) So,you know, that is a significantdifference, I think, and extraordi-nary quality of Columbia’s role ineducation, higher education in thecity, you know, in terms of studentsbeing prepared, I mean, thatpreparedness is a part of the learn-ing process.

Yeah. Yeah.

And preparedness and participa-tion, you know, I mean, one canattempt things and fail, you know.And you have—you can go throughthat—it’s a part of your learning,and hence of your dignity, youknow, which means you may goofup here, you may not get it right.You can try this thing, and it maynot work. I mean, I have twowonderful students right now, Ihave a wonderful class I just startedon—

OK, excuse me just a second.

Thank you.

Oh, Chris, I’m gonna have to go,too.

OK. L isten, can we do a l i t t le

more at some later po int?

We can.

Today is December 10th, and th is

is the second ha l f o f an inter v iew

with Cather ine S lade. Um, the

other day, we got up to your grad -

uat ion , and I don’ t th ink—I don’ t

know i f you ment ioned the gradu -

at ion . I wonder i f you cou ld just

ta lk about that fo r a minute .

The graduation?

Yeah.

What do you want to know aboutit?

What was i t l ike? You graduated

in ‘71, and—who was there , and

what happened? Who spoke?

Well, um, I graduated magna cumlaude from Theater, I gave a speechduring graduation. I had just had achild, so I had my baby with meonstage. (Laughs) [I came up] withall kinds of goofy stuff, you know,refused to wear robes and stuff likethat. It was the ‘70s, right? Early‘70s. So, I mean, to my recollec-tion, it was a wonderful time. Youknow, Bill Russo was playing themusic, and... I can’t remember whowas the guest. I just can’t remem-ber, it was too long ago. But it was,you know, it was a really funevening, I mean, Columbia’s gradu-ations have always been a bit extra-ordinaire in terms of the mood ofthe students, and the fact thatthey’re all artists means that there’sa lot of individual ideas and percep-tions on how the graduation shouldgo that they bring to the room.But, yeah, that’s...

Do you r emember who e lse gradu -

ated wi th you?

No.

And d id Mike A lexandro f f speak?

Yes, he did.

Was th is one o f h is famous

speeches?

Well, I mean, Mike has always beena very inspiring speaker, and he...oh, gee, I mean, it’s—I wish youhad talked—if I had known youwanted to talk about this, I couldhave thought about it for a while,or...

Oh, sor r y, sor r y. Wel l , te l l me

what you—

He’s a wonderful storyteller, youknow, and very inspiring, you

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know, there’s this—he’s a passion-ate advocate of... entrepreneurship,you know. He inspired us to go outthere and do our own thing, thatpersonally and professionally, theworld was limitless for us, youknow. He taught us—and because,you know, Mike always had a polit-ical point of view, you know, tocross boundaries and to be compas-sionate, a compassionate observer oflife... to care about people, theenvironment, each other, learning,fellow students, you know...

Tel l me about the fe l low students

who were there . Do you r emember

how many peop le graduated?

I don’t. I really don’t rememberthat. I mean, of course, it wasn’thuge, like now. But I can’t—it’s solong ago, and I think I would havea better memory, except I had justhad my son, like, within four weeksbefore. So, you know, it was hazyfor that reason. I mean, even tocome back and try and finish underthose conditions, you can under-stand...

Yes, indeed.

So the most significant event wasthe birth of my son, and, you know,so I had him with me, I was prettyproud of him (laughs).

What d id you do—you were , sor t

o f , out in the wor ld fo r another,

what , a dozen years or so , and

then you came back as a facu l ty

person. What d id you do dur ing

those years?

Well, I was out longer than that. I,um, I went to New York and—well, first I started the prisondrama programs through the stateof Illinois, they started out as avolunteer program over at thecounty jail, and then we got fund-ing and they went all over thestate, so I put that program

together. I did sort of activisttheater and created theater in thecity for the marginalized. I createda senior citizens storytelling work-shop that, you know, toured aroundthe country. They were under theumbrella of the Free Street Theaterof Chicago, but those were myprograms: the prison dramaprogram and the senior citizensworkshop. David Mamet came totown, left New York, came totown, he was the playwright thatworked with me. We would drivedown to Pontiac and he wouldteach playwrighting, I was teachingacting, you know, and we wouldpull together shows. I’m sure thatthat influenced American Buffaloin some way.

Hmm, interest ing. Do you have

any o f the mater ia ls? Tapes,

v ideos, scr ipts , o r anyth ing l ike

that?

From back then? No, you know, Ilost almost all of my records, ‘causeI had a fire at my house. Our placejust—I mean, the whole place wasup in smoke, so there was, youknow, very—all that kind of stuff,like the paper stuff, was eitherwaterlogged or destroyed. It was areally bad fire, and my apartmentwas on the 3rd floor, so—my bedwas in the basement. I mean, it wasa really bad fire, so, you know,every now and then—actually, Ithink we were able to salvagehardly anything. Hardly anything,though some wasn’t destroyed. Butit was, like, the brass bed, and itwas, like, crashed into the firstfloor, and eventually, it ended up insome second hand store. Actually,that’s where we saw it, and weknew it was our bed, and that’swhat we were told. “Oh, well, thisis from a fire.”

This is be fore you went to New

York?

Yeah.

And when d id you go to New

York?

I went to New York... actually, um,I went to New York in... ‘73,maybe.

And what d id you do there?

Um, I was—I was invited to NewYork by [Kristen] Linklater to be apart of the Working Theater, whichwas a group she was training voiceand movement specialists to teachin theater departments, becausethat was her mission, and shethought that there was just notquality voice and movement workbeing taught, that all the emphasiswas on acting, and not the bodyand the voice. So she got this hugegrant, and we came there andtrained eight hours a day, voice andmovement, for three years. To beteachers, a teacher training. So, Imean, it was as intense as anyMaster’s program—actually, we’reall designated Linklater specialists,which was, you know, a certifica-tion as best as they could give atthat time. But certainly it wasMaster’s training.

So—and then in ‘76, you came

back?

Where? To Chicago?

Yeah. Or, what d id you do a f ter

three years o f that?

I stayed in New York for 16 years.

For 16 years , oh my!

I was in New York a long time. Ihad my own company up there, Iperformed all over New York, youknow, Off Broadway, and Broadwayand... then I had a job with theAmerican Repertory Theater atHarvard. And in the ‘80s I wasback and forth to Harvard. Um, Itaught at New York University, thegraduate school of theater. I wasmaster teacher of voice and move-ment at Hunter College for three

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years. I mean, for 10 years, notthree, 10 years, 10 years I wasteaching at Hunter College.

So what brought you, f ina l l y,

back to Co lumbia? How d id that

happen?

Um, my husband died, he had aheart attack and died, and I justwanted—after that had happened,you know, I had to review my lifeand being in New York, my sonwas just starting high school, and Ijust wanted to come home. Andeverything I had gone to New Yorkto do, I had done. I had gone thereto act in New York, I had beenacting in New York for 15 years. Ihad gone there to create a theatercompany, I did it, I had a companycalled the Manhattan BridgeCompany, which was Off Broadwayin two years, you know, which isjust wonderful. And my son wasgonna go to high school, we didn’thave any family up there oranything, so afterwards, you know,it was just like “Wait a minute, Iwanna smell the roses here.” Wenever know how much time wehave, and New York was, as youknow, incredibly hectic and fast-paced and career-conscious.(Laughs)

Yeah. Huh. So you came back to

Columbia? Or d id you come back

to Co lumbia r ight away?

I came back to Columbia. Yeah.

And—now, that was a f ter 16, 17,

18 years?

I guess, I mean, ‘73, I came back toColumbia, it was ‘88, I think.

I ’m cur ious about your sense,

when you came back, o f the

d i f fe rence in the inst i tut ion .

Well, it had grown so much, Imean, it was amazing, it was in onebuilding, a couple of floors, I think,before, at 540 Lake Shore Drive.

And now, Columbia was all overthe South Loop. It was just incredi-ble, the growth that had takenplace in the institution. And um...the departments that had sprangup, I mean, they now had—youknow, I mean, they had a graduateschool, they had—oh my goodness.What’s today’s date?

The 10th.

Oh, OK. I’m OK. I was just think-ing, I was supposed to be on some-one’s tenure committee. Wait aminute, hold on, hold on.

Sure .

The tremendous growth and, youknow, the multiplication of depart-ments, and the faculty had justgrown so much, it was just wonder-ful to come back and, now, workalongside people that had been mymentors, like Bill Russo was there,and—who else was around who hadbeen around all that time? AlParker had been around for everand ever, and Ed Morris had beenaround a long time. I’m not sureEd was there then, though.

Hmm. Now, was th is , essent ia l l y,

more o f the same atmosphere and

the same approach and so on as

when you had been a student?

Well—

Had th ings changed then, o r have

they changed s ince?

Well, Columbia has always had amulti-cultural educational para-digm that was integral to theircurriculum and all levels of learn-ing in the school. We alwayslearned to—I mean, it was an ideal-istic kind of rapport that we wouldcreate with our students to encour-age and teach them where theywere, and bring them along. Youknow, we always appealed to firstgeneration college students,students who, often, you know,were maybe second generation

Americans, or first. I mean, manyof my students came from EasternEuropean backgrounds and were,you know, the students were theEnglish-speaking Americans. Sothose kind of home-grown prob-lems that face communities that,you know, deal with different kindsof prejudicial attitudes and differ-ences, that suffer from injusticesthat are in this country, certaincruelties, I mean, Columbia had areal, honest embrace of—you know,the people that are marginalized.And certainly, that meant every-thing to me. And I believe that theschool still, you know, I mean, lookhow they’re growing, the Hispanicgroup now, and the kinds ofprograms that are evolving tosupport the students, the Asianstudents—I mean, you know, so it’sstill there, it’s... unlike other places,there’s this cultural and historicalinterest that is incorporated intothe learning experience. I mean, Idaresay that you’re not gonna findthat at Julliard, or, you know, otherschools where the—you know, theirart schools, but, I mean, I teach atthe Art Institute, and certainly, Ihave students who come in thathave an interest in political andcultural affairs and considerations,but, you know, many of mystudents, say, are more interested inart and that kind of observationthat comes from aesthetic, youknow, aesthetic paradigms ratherthan political/cultural ones, youknow, there’s a different focusthat—I’m not judging it, I’m just,you know, making that distinction.

So that ’s—

So we stayed pretty true to missionand, you know, those early tradi-tions that were set up in the teach-ing environment. It’s not easy, ourstudents, sometimes, but it’s alwayschallenging, and always fulfilling

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to find the way to bring everybodyaround the corner together, youknow? It’s great. It’s really great.And it makes me happy to be apart of Columbia, the institution,where we’re not about denigrationand dismissal of students becausethey’re not up to snuff. We’re look-ing at the bigger picture, I mean,really, the mission of educators toempower our students and study,ourselves, cultural diversity. Youknow, that’s my opinion, you know.And facilitate that growth alongwith our subject matters, whateverthat happens to be.

Yeah, I ’m cur ious about the

sub ject matters now. How would

you say that the miss ion o f

Co lumbia wi th r espect—how

would you descr ibe the miss ion o f

Co lumbia wi th r espect to ar ts

and communicat ions media? The

ar ts espec ia l l y, wh ich you’ r e

invo lved in .

Um, you mean theater?

Yeah.

Umm... well, I think what we’veknown all along is that—oh, that’sa hard question to answer, ‘causeI’m kinda tired right now. But, youknow, I would say that, you know,say, the way we approach learningis holistic, using whole languageskills, that, you know, that thestrategies that are developed in theschool—say, for learning and read-ing, you know, one learns story-telling, you know, the great workof John Schultz there. And howthat work now is used to teachlanguage skills and create work-books and text sheets for theChicago Public City school kids,through students of his StoryWorkshops. So, you know, I seethat whatever—you know, so ifyou’re dealing with language skills,or mathematical and science skills,I mean, look at the work that goes

on in our science department, orwith Zafra, where, you know, thecreative projects that involved allthe other intelligences as well, likeone is learning science throughmovement, or toymaking, or, youknow, some spatial kind of design...futuristic projects and, um—do youknow what I mean?

Mm-hmm.

So there’s this artistic self-expres-sive approach to learning that’severywhere.

And i t ’s had an impact on educa -

t ion , sor t o f beyond the wal ls o f

Co lumbia , i t sounds l ike . Is that

r ight?

Yeah, because—you deal withhuman intelligence. You know,you’re dealing with the treasurechest of people’s special gifts, andwhen you find these gifts wherethey can be self-expressive, that’swhere their intelligence is andthat’s the way of making connec-tions to the world of core disci-plines, as well as, you know, some-one coming there because they’reactually interested in filmmaking,or writing poetry, you know. Thatwe help them go on this treasurehunt, you know, across the board inthe school. Across the board, there’sthis... creative approach to learning,to—creative and experientialapproach, experiential, because wedeal with learning through experi-ence, as opposed to, you know, thekind of deductive rationale that’sused in, you know, writing tons ofpapers and reading libraries and allof that, you know, that we helpstudents teach each other, youknow, there’s, like, this—everybodybecomes a smart person, you know.The smart people approach. I havea student right now who hascertain literacy problems, so otherstudents and he are, you know,they’re working, making tapes andCDs, and all that is helping this

friend learn. And everybody isenjoying the work without puttingsome sort of spotlight on him thathe needs to run away and hidedown the hall until he learns thealphabet. Do you see what I mean?

Yeah.

I’ve always liked that aboutColumbia. And, if anything, Iworry what some of the newrequirements that say if you’re noton a certain level, you know, thenyou’re removed and sent away toget yourself in shape, you know. Imean, I wonder what the effects ofthat might be. And I don’t know,because it’s early on, it’s too early totell. I mean, I know that there’slots of stuff out there now, in termsof requirements and assessing this,that, and the other, but, you know,I wonder what the outcome of allthat will be. And that’s comingfrom the outside.

Yeah, I was gonna ask: where do

you th ink Co lumbia ’s headed?

Um... well, certainly, we’re in aperiod of transition just now. Imean, for many reasons, we’resetting up an infrastructure tohandle the large student body that’sthere, which we have to do, youknow. We’re busy taking a look atourselves, and you know, and evalu-ating what we offer and we have aneye out to make corrections andcombine, you know, to get rid of,you know, duplication of classes. Imean, there’s a tidying up that’sbeing done, and we’re entering thetechnological scheme of the worldthat’s moving into the 21st century.We’re doing what needs to be doneto prepare ourselves and ourstudents to, you know, come out ofthere and compete. Um, I thinkthat that has changed our approach,or added on to the approach, youknow, a necessary kind of structuralawakening, because we have to fit

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into this, sort of, global organiza-tional model that’s out there thesedays, you know? And we have tosynthesize all of our, sort of, inno-vative... energies into somethingthat’s more structural, you know. Ifeel like this in terms of the growthof the school. You know, it was onething, when I was there, there was,like, all these wonderful, maverickgeniuses running the departments,and, you know, everybody wasdown the hall. Now, you know,we’ve got buildings everywhere.You know, we just—we’vechanged, and it was necessary. Andit’s necessary, this emphasis on inte-grating the curriculum, a sort ofacross the curriculum... whateverthat is, I mean, don’t quote mehere, please, ‘cause I’m not reallyup to snuff on all of that.

Mm-hmm.

You know, I don’t have an adminis-trative mindset at all. I think thatthat’s good, as long as we continueto understand that people come toColumbia to be artists, practicalartists, that’s why they come there.They don’t come to Columbia to behistorians, or mathematicians or—you know, they come to Columbiafor art. And as the internal strug-gles evolve, I mean, that’s... thenucleus. As far as I know, that isthe nucleus and motivating force ofthe institution, is its creativeapproach to the arts and learningand teaching. I mean, for thoseareas, like, in the liberal arts andwhatnot.

I ’m a lmost out o f tape here , but I

wanted to ask—

I’m getting tired

(Laughs)

I’m feeling like I’m incoherent, I’mnot really—

No, you’ r e do ing f ine . You’ r e

speaking a l i t t le s lower than you

might , but you’ r e do ing f ine . Let

me just ask you i f your persona l

v is ion o f educat ion has changed

over the years .

If my personal vision of educationhas changed?

Yeah.

Yeah, yeah, it has. I mean, I... whenI started out, and especially sinceI’ve specialized in voice and move-ment work, you know, I had a lotof information to carry to mystudents, and I have—the subjectmatter was paramount, you know,when I started teaching. And as Igrew as a teacher, there were otherpossibilities I allowed in the class-room, you know, awakeningthought, students having the possi-bility to have time to reflect onother areas, where what they werelearning from me, you know, couldfit into other areas I would allow. Imean, other than moving towardstheater, I mean, often my classes,because I would have a largenumber of filmmakers in there, wewould have our focus on text,different types of text, and self-knowledge and subjectivity,because, I mean, that’s the work ofthe writer. So I’d begin to, sort of,awaken this creative tension, andreally like it in my classroom. I likearousing, sort of, ethical, politicalissues in the class. I mean, that’scertainly a part of my training atColumbia... but allowing that typeof thinking, content, to be a part ofclassroom and the whole learningcurve for the semester.