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March 17, 1969 Dear Jack:
A good question that; how am I faring at SF State? Pretty badly, as a matter of grim fact. Your old colleague Hiawatha considers me "the most dangerous and influential member of the faculty," and has sworn to fire me; for my part, I am convinced he is as mad as the proverbial March hare, and a punitive right-wing witch hunter to boot. Und so. There is not, I assume, much question over who will win, but I'll go down fighting. We have been fighting here, for the past 3 months, and it has been the good fight, for, I believe firmly, the side of life as opposed to death. It was a pretty good strike. I learned a lot: how to be a picket captain; that day after day in the rain would not melt me; that cops are not my friends; that there can be such a thing (even among teachers) as solidarity; that a minority can hang tough; that it is possible to work, and to work well with these black kids, despite their tremendous sense of outrage--that if one can put something on the line, one can gain a measure of trust, but only by commiting [sic] oneself. And, alas, I've learned that nothing is simple. We creaked back in with a lousy settlement, minus 2 months' salary, and with matters still unresolved. It is like teaching in a concentration camp, now, and I'm unsettled as hell. I feel as schizoid as we all do here. Part of us wants to partake of the simpler attitudes of the picket line, while part wants to take over, despite the odds, the governance of the institution. I don't give myself long here, but I'm going to try to hang on another year --partly because the black kids have asked me to. Your lecture tour sounds great. Sure, the company is pretty fast, but you've got the credentials. I'm using underlined: The Disinherited this year in a weird and wild class called "Literature and Revolution" (filled with black, Third World, and striking students); that wonderful passage dealing with the men working on the road building is beautifully vital.
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I'll be in touch. And I'll give your love to Hiawatha if he comes back from praying (sp.?) with Nixon. If you discover any nice documents at the U. of Conn. bash, grab a copy for me.
All the best, Eric P.S. It's St. Pat's day. They used to call me Sullivan when I was a tad in Boston. Anyone can pass, I guess. Cheers.