BERKELEY IN THE SIXTIES - II
Dave Nash (Ph.D., 1970)
735 Brookside Circle, Rogue River, OR 97537
Larry Blake’s. I arrived in Berkeley in June 1965 in the Golden Goose, a 1950
Studebaker, the kind that looked the same going forward or in reverse. That summer a
visiting mathematician was late for judo class and I offered to drive him there in the
Goose. We never got to the class and ended up at Larry Blake’s Ratskeller, where Cal
football players worked as bouncers, tackling drunks, no doubt in preparation for the Big
Game with Stanford.
There was a fellow in Larry Blake’s surrounded by a half-dozen empty beer pitchers, but
appearing none the worse for it. He was Yuri Prokhorov, a brilliant Soviet academician,
attending both Larry Blake’s and Berkeley’s International Statistics Symposium. Yuri
spoke perfect English, was great company, and regaled us with various jokes, many of
which can’t be printed here. [For example, Yuri related that when John Steinbeck visited
Moscow, he tried to say in Russian that he was a great American writer, and was hustled
to the nearest men’s room. Hint: The Russian word for “great” sounds like “veleakey”;
“writer”, you may look up.]
After Larry Blake’s closed for the night, Yuri, my mathematical judo friend and I started
walking down Telegraph Avenue. At the corner of Haste we were accosted by a
staggering drunk, a complete stranger, who insisted we all go for a drink. We demurred,
saying all places were closed. Exasperated, the drunk put an arm around Yuri, and
blurted, “Come on, you lousy Commie, let’s go for a drink!” Yuri, thankfully, just
smiled. We left the inebriate and drove up to International House in the Golden Goose,
which Yuri pronounced a fine capitalist car. That fall the Goose sold for $100, the
inflated price I had paid for it.
Holistic Measure Theory. Sunday suppers at International House were an institution. At
one such supper Professor Edward Teller spoke on controlling the weather via nuclear
explosions. He noted dangers, such as removing uncertainty about weather as a topic for
polite conversation. This particular supper was to promote Cal Camp. The I House
auditorium was filled with professors, their spouses and children, sharing tables with I
House residents - quite a family occasion.
Hugo, a friendly science graduate student from Peru, a veteran Cal Camp volunteer,
presented a slide show about Cal Camp. One slide showed a large rock dome covered
with indentations. Hugo explained that this was an ancient Native American grinding
rock. A young squaw would be assigned a specific spot on the rock to grind meal for the
rest of her life. Apparently because scientists have a penchant for quantification, Hugo
added, “So I guess you could tell how old a woman was by the size of her hole.” This
drew quite an audible reaction from both scientists and non-scientists.
BERKELEY IN THE SIXTIES - II
Dave Nash
The Ugly Man Contest. Miss Carol Doda was neither ugly nor a man, but was the
leading candidate in the Ugly Man Contest, which raised money to send needy kids to
Cal Camp by selling votes for just about anyone. Miss Doda had forwarded her center of
gravity and career as an exotic dancer in San Francisco’s North Beach via strategic use of
silicone. Her appearance at a promotional rally on Sproul Plaza drew, I am told, the
largest crowd ever, which probably qualified as Cal’s largest lecher session. (I wasn’t
there, but wish I had been.)
For most of the contest Professor Lance Small was nowhere in the running. However,
minutes before the polls closed, a delegation of charitable math students arrived with a
large amount of money, all for votes for the popular professor. But not even math
students could overcome Miss Doda’s appeal; Professor Small placed only second (ahead
of Smokey the Bear). Professor Small was somewhat surprised to find himself in such
company, but he had one thing in common with Miss Doda: they were both good sports.
Stationary store. Right next to campus, on a corner of Hearst and Euclid, stood a store
which sold paper and other school supplies but advertised its immobility:
“STATIONARY” was painted on the window (possibly by a Stanford grad).
BEDtime. Cal’s Board of Educational Development invited newsmakers, such as Soul
on Ice author, Eldridge Cleaver, as guest lecturers and introduced small, innovative
seminars for undergraduates to experience something other than large lecture classes
whose main newsmakers invaded Egypt over two thousand years ago. Unfortunately,
there was a big political fuss over the program. Professor John Kelly resigned as head of
the Board saying, “Fun in BED is over.”
The Great Communicator. The Board of Regents signaled its intentions for the
Berkeley campus when an unsuspecting political member, who later held national office,
was telephotographed high on a balcony overlooking Cal making a fist, with one finger
pointing skyward.
Administrative mess. Soon after arriving at Cal, in 1965, I found some old Daily
Californian newspapers in an attic. Some covered events of the Free Speech Movement,
during which protestors “sat in” Sproul Hall. Some were accused of breaking into and
trashing the office of a high university official. The official’s secretary later testified she
checked the office and saw nothing unusual; the place was always a mess.
May, 2001; Version 5.3
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