Stealing Through Time: On the Writings of Jack Finney (23 page)

Many thanks for the clippings you sent me on my Galesburg story in the current
McCall's
; I was pleased to see them, and I appreciate your thoughtfulness in sending them.

I often think of the fine tour of the college you took me on; it was a wonderfully pleasant experience which I hope to repeat with my family, perhaps this summer.

Goodsill replied on April 22, 1960:

Your letter of March 26 says you may bring your family to Galesburg "perhaps this summer."

When this happens I would like to get a group together to meet them — perhaps a dinner or garden party, provided your plans permit.

Finney's shyness is reflected in his reply of April 27, I960:

Thank you very much indeed for your wonderfully kind idea to have a dinner or garden party for us if my family and I should come to Galesburg this summer.

We do hope to be there — I expect to have business in New York late this spring, or in the early summer, and my wife would like to see her parents in Toronto — and I have, lately, got my family all pepped up about seeing Galesburg. So we may very well be staying overnight in Galesburg before too long, spending parts of the preceding and following days. None of this is yet certain, though.

We'd very much like to see you then, but please don't even think of arranging a dinner, garden party, or anything of the sort. We'd be a little pressed for time, for one thing; I don't meet people in large groups very easily, frankly; we'd have two children along, restless after a long trip; and you must not go to any such trouble, anyway. We would love to have lunch with you, or something of that sort.

I had a very nice note from Earnest Elmo Calkins about my story about Galesburg recently.

Again thanks for your nice note, and very kind plans; if we come to Galesburg, you'll surely be hearing from me.

Earnest Elmo Calkins's book,
They Broke the Prairie,
had been mentioned by Goodsill in his November 16,1959 letter to Finney. This was a book of local history, "first published in 1937 in honor of the Galesburg and Knox College Centenary" ("They Broke the Prairie"). Calkins died in 1964 and, after a six-year lull, the correspondence between Finney and Goodsill resumed. Goodsill wrote to Finney on September 1, 1966:

Knox Alumnus
ran a series, "Knox As I Knew It," by Earnest Calkins. There has been a lapse since his death.

I'd like to publish similar articles in different age brackets. For example, the 1930s, by Jack Finney.

Will you please consider doing a page or two for the
Alumnus
? Just to put you in the mood I enclose copy of a 1913-er's recollections.

Finney replied on September 8, 1966:

Please believe, because it's true, that I gave your request to write something about Knox in the 1930s the most earnest consideration. I feel in your debt for past favors, and do not say no, as I have to, lightly. I thought about as hard as I'm able, to find out whether I might possibly have something to say about Knox in the 30s, and all I can tell you, finally, after mulling it over off and on for several days, is that I do not.

It just isn't true, of course, that a writer can turn his hand to any field; and the field of reminiscence and interesting anecdote is one I don't belong in. There are many people, and not necessarily writers, by any means, whose minds retain a wealth of anecdote, and of interesting bits and snips from earlier times. But not me. I wouldn't know what to say, Max; I mean it. I can't think of anything that made the Knox of the thirties different from today's. I'm sure it was very different, but I don't even know what today's Knox is like. Believe me, you have a lot better people for this job than I, and they probably live in Galesburg, and know both the Knox of the Thirties and of the Sixties both.

I'm sorry not to oblige; I would if I could.

Max Goodsill must have ceased being the Knox College director of public relations soon after this letter was received, for the following, lengthy letter was written to Finney on November 3, 1966, by the new director of public relations, William J. Kilkenny:

The
Saturday Evening Post
, I should think, might be interested in taking A New Look at Old Siwash. It was the
Post
, after all, that helped to start
the whole Siwash business 58 years ago. Are you, I hope, interested in doing an updating piece for the
Post
?

In discussing the possibilities for such an article with Max Goodsill and a couple of other alumni, I came to realize that you would be the ideal author of it. Not only are you a well-established writer, but also you have an affiliation with Knox that would give you personal insights which might escape other authors.

A New Look at Old Siwash would be more than a publicity piece of considerable value to Knox; it would be an opportunity for a kind of rehabilitation of the term "Siwash" itself. As most dictionaries of slang, and some plain old dictionaries as well, have it, "Siwash" is a less than complimentary word. Knox seems to be inextricably committed to "Siwash" as a nickname, and although this is fine with the alumni, or at least some of the alumni, there are certain members of the faculty who consider "Siwash" a very heavy millstone around their scholarly necks. I feel that I am not telling you anything new here, but the debate over the propriety of such a nickname for a first-rate college, while it could hardly be the central point of a whole
Post
article, might provide a peg for a story. Another peg would be the fact that 1967 will be the 70th anniversary of George Fitch's graduation from Knox.

This is a matter that neither I nor anyone else with whom I have talked has discussed with anybody at the
Post
. We thought it would be best to have the idea suggested to the
Post
by an established author.

We have accumulated some material that might be of use to you if you are interested in undertaking this project, and we can gather up a great deal more if you wish. It is a matter that you might like to talk over with me on the telephone some day soon.

The letter concluded with a note that the writer was enclosing a number of booklets to help stimulate Finney's interest in the project, booklets such as "Knox Catalog" and "Calendar of Public Events." Kilkenny got no further than Goodsill had, however, as Jack Finney replied by letter of November 7, 1966:

Thank you for the compliment of thinking of me as a possible author of a
Saturday Evening Post
article on Knox. I appreciate it, but am obliged to say no because I am not an article writer. I write only fiction, and have never in my life written an article.

The two kinds of writing seem to be very different. There may be — no doubt are — writers who have done both, but I think they're rare. I've never known a writer of fiction who had ever written an article, or vice versa.

I wouldn't even know how to begin, and since my last knowledgeable look at Old Siwash was in 1934, with only one brief visit since, some seven or eight years ago, I don't think I'm your man on any count.

"Siwash" is defined by Merriam-Webster as "a small usually inland college that is notably provincial in outlook" ("Merriam-Webster"). The word was coined in stories by George Fitch, a writer who was graduated from Knox College in 1897. Fictional Siwash College was said to bear some similarity to Knox College ("George H. Fitch Papers").

This letter ended the correspondence between Jack Finney and the staff of Knox College for another twelve years.

On December 13, 1978, the exchange began again with this very interesting letter, written to Jack Finney by Robert Kosin from the city of Galesburg's planning department:

The optimism in the ending of
I Love Galesburg in the Springtime
was misplaced. In the eighteen years since that short story appeared, Galesburg has lost its physical heritage to progress. A shopping mall on North Henderson has vacated much of Main Street. Squat apartments have been built among the homes on Broad, Kellogg, Cherry and Prairie Streets. Knox College has demolished Beecher Chapel, and intends to do the same with Whiting and Alumni Hall.

I am in Galesburg to record its historical and architectural heritage. In 1976 over 180 acres of the central city was placed on the National Register of Historic Places. Yet, demolition of the Schlitz Sample Room on South Prairie occurred this month for the expansion of the First Galesburg National Bank. I have enclosed copies of the articles on the building which appeared on the front page of the
Register-Mail
. Progress and preservation are not seen as complementary but have emerged as antagonists over the future of Galesburg.

I am writing all this for two reasons. As an outsider, I need your advice on how to sensitize the people of Galesburg to their heritage, and second I wonder if you can write to the people of Galesburg through the
Register-Mail
or possibly revisit Galesburg, about the current trend of events. I will not see Galesburg this spring since my project will end by March 12th to go on to another town, but your story captured the essences of Galesburg, that I hope we are not too late from losing forever.

Finney replied on December 28, 1978, with his longest letter:

There has been a good deal of success here on the West Coast in only the last half dozen years or so in propagandizing the people of a town about the beauty and historical interest of some of their old buildings. And in San Francisco the preservation of its old structures is very much in, these days. Old so-called "Victorian" houses which would have been hard to give away fifteen years ago — and which were often torn down by the square block — are now very valuable, because people buy them and restore them. This has become so much the thing to do in S.F. that there is actually a new business firm, making a good profit, in making the old house ornamentation — the 'gingerbread'—that distinguishes these houses.

The town of Petaluma, not too far from here, has a lot of nice old buildings, many of them in the downtown area. A dozen years ago the store fronts of these were invariably modernized, and some were torn down. But now the town has been educated to think these things are beautiful, and part of their heritage, etc., and the thing to do now is paint and emphasize their 19th-century ornamentation.

I'm sure you know all these things as well as I do, but I mention them to make the point that I don't think it's too hard to make a town conscious of the value of its old buildings. I think all that has to be done is to find no more than a handful of informed, dedicated people willing to form a committee to preserve Galesburg's heritage, or something on that order. A series of articles in the
Register-Mail
done by someone who knows the town's history can —with photographs —make the people who have walked past the old buildings hardly aware of them, suddenly become aware. Most people — I among them — need someone else to point out to us what is beautiful. I see it in a painting when someone more discerning spells it out for me. I think that can happen with old buildings. People stop seeing them as old-fashioned, out-moded buildings that ought to be replaced; and now see them as attractive. And when they learn something of their histories, they walk past the familiar old places with new feelings about them.

I don't think it's hard to accomplish this with a town, or that it takes very long. Articles in the
R-M
... nice plaques mounted on old buildings with some interesting historical facts about them ... old photos of those buildings enlarged and displayed in the windows ... etc.

And when the general population, rather than just a handful of preservationists, are swung around, banks hesitate about tearing down old buildings, and begin to see the wisdom of retaining them by adapting them to modern usage.

All this is obvious to you, I know. But I mention it because I think it has been effective out here.

There is one other thing: I read an article, which I think I can find if you want to pursue this, about a business firm which is making a very good profit by advising towns on how to effectively use fine old buildings. What happens is something like this. The town officials need, or think they need, more space, or different kind of space, than the old courthouse provides. They want to tear it down, and build a new building. But it costs money to tear down the old building, and more money to build a new one. They call in this firm which sends in a small team of experts, including structural engineers, architects, and whatever. They consult very closely with the town officials; learn what they think they need in working space, and why they think they need it. They then study the old structure, and — if it is practical — they then demonstrate to the town officials that by certain remodelings they can get the floor space they now need ... or that by certain remodelings they can augment the usefulness of the present space and did not really need the additional space they thought they did, etc. This is done with floor plans, specifications, models, etc., and their success has been in genuinely persuading the people involved that they are right.

Sometimes they report that they can't recommend restructuring the old building; it won't work. So that their reputation has to do with a kind of hard-headed practicality; they don't say it will work unless it really will. The result, when they have successfully demonstrated the value of saving and remodeling, is that everybody is happy; the preservationists have what they wanted, the bureaucrats have what they want, the taxpayers saved money, and the firm makes its fee.

They succeed because they provide a practical out for everybody. But we have preservationists here who don't seem to think. There is a fine old-fashioned, and very lovely old department store in San Francisco called The City of Paris. It went out of business because it couldn't compete; part of the loveliness everyone likes is pure empty space. From ground floor to ceiling is empty space, the floors above them being open to provide the space. So that it's lovely as you enter, you look up five stories past all the railing-protected floors to a wonderful stained-glass dome. And every Christmas they brought in an enormous Christmas tree that rose up to that dome five stories; it took a couple dozen men working all night to trim it, with special oversize ornaments. And everyone went to see it each year; it was a part of Christmas.

Merchandising changed, and the store couldn't compete because of all that empty space. They closed. The store stood empty; a closed-up blight on the downtown area. Neiman-Marcus bought the site; they wanted to tear down the old building, and put up a new one that conformed to modern merchandising ideas. They were and are willing to retain a kind of smaller rotunda, and even inset the old stained-glass dome. But the building would have no windows in order to provide more merchandise space.

No question but that the old building was far more attractive. So the preservationists here have gone to court and endlessly delayed Neiman-Marcus by simply, and I think stubbornly, insisting that Neiman-Marcus must use the old building as is. Neiman-Marcus won't do that, of course — that's the building the old store closed down. So Neiman-Marcus keeps submitting revised plans, which the preservationists reject.

The preservationists can never win this one; no one will reopen the old store; they are demanding the impossible. Eventually Neiman-Marcus will either win, or they will give up. They will sell the property, and open up in some other place. Who will then buy the old City of Paris, and open it up just as is, as though 1910 were back? No one will, of course. And meanwhile the store stands empty, a kind of blight in the area, which is dangerous because the San Francisco downtown area is in trouble like so many other downtowns.

The reason for this rambling is to make — again — an obvious point but I think a crucial one. I don't think it's enough to simply oppose tearing down a fine old building on nothing more than the ground that you prefer the old one. I think you must also demonstrate that keeping or remodeling the old structure makes sense for the owner, too. If there really is a way to preserve or partly preserve the old City of Paris, I think they ought to demonstrate this to Neiman-Marcus. But if there is not, no one can win. I like it better when everyone wins, because then the old structure really is saved. The stubborn alternative only delays the inevitable.

I've descended to preaching, I see; and of course you know all this long since, and a lot more. But it's the only reply I could think of to make. I do think that if the preservationists will be practical, they can often win. And if not entirely, at least partially. Etc. Etc. Etc.

I can't really offer to help you, even if it were in my power, which I doubt. I don't actually know very much about Galesburg's history, and what buildings ought to be saved, etc. It's a job for someone who lives there. I'm too far away, and do not expect ever again to even be in Galesburg. I hope very much that your efforts to help preserve the town will succeed; but I don't think I can really help.

As you see from the overlong nature of my reply, my sympathies are-very much with you. Thanks for writing, and good luck.