BASEL – CHILDHOOD MEMORIES OF ALAIN CLAUDE SULZER

Alain Sulzer (author of The Perfect Waiter) grew up in Riehen, a sleepy suburb of Basel until 1997, when Ernst Beyerle gave his collection of modern art to the public museum designed by Renzo Piano. The Fondation Beyerle is Riehen’s major drawing card today, but for young Sulzer, its main attraction was the tram taking him to Basel when he spent a weekend with his grandmother.

The place where she lived, in a house with two turrets, held at least as much charm for me as the television set she owned, since we ourselves had none. I slept in the sewing room beside a futuristic knitting machine, which soon turned out to be an impractical oddity. Before falling asleep, I listened to the muted noise of the tram – only one block away – which ran to the centre of the city. It was a place I visited on rare occasions, such as the Autumn Fair or carnival or when I was taken to the zoo. The Zolli, as it was called, attracted the attention of the whole population when Goma was born in 1959 – the first female gorilla born in a zoo and still living there today, an aged lady in the best of health.

Goma at 50

The screeching of the trams – the first audible sign of the city – is as deeply etched on my brain as the taste of madeleines dipped in tea was etched on Proust’s.

At the age of nineteen, Sulzer moved from Riehen into the city. My flat consisted of a kitchen with a skylight (the only window), a bathroom (without window), and a living room with a view of an inner yard. The flat was above a garage. The level of noise it produced in the morning made an alarm clock superfluous.

But this was, finally, urban living.

(Trans. from A.C. Sulzer, Basel)

“PITY SHE’S A GIRL”: ELIZABETH CADY STANTON’S CHILDHOOD

Lindley Murray Speller

When Elizabeth’ sister was born, she overheard visitors say “What a pity it is she’s a girl!” She therefore felt a kind of compassion for the little baby without understanding what was wrong with her -- that girls were considered an inferior order of beings.

The garret was the children’s favourite playground. Nuts, cakes of maple sugar, and dried herbs were stored there, as well as a spinning wheel and old clothes. She remembers: We would crack the nuts, nibble the sharp edges of the maple sugar, chew some favorite herb, whirl the old spinning wheel, and dress up in our ancestors’ clothes.

Elizabeth recalls learning to spell words, using Murray’s Spelling- Book, where Old Father Time, with his scythe, and the farmer stoning the boys in his apple trees gave rise in my mind to many serious reflections.

A FEMINIST’S HONEYMOON: ELIZABETH CADY STANTON’S WEDDING JOURNEY.

Elizabeth Cady married Henry Stanton on Friday, May 10, 1840.

Friday is commonly supposed to be a most unlucky day. But as we lived together, without more than the usual matrimonial friction, for nearly half a century and had seven children…no one need be afraid of going through the ceremony on Friday.

A difficult arose when Elizabeth wanted the clergyman to leave out the word obey in the vows. I obstinately refused to obey one with whom I supposed I was entering into an equal relation. The clergyman reluctantly conceded the point, but revenged himself by praying and sermonizing for an hour.

The honeymoon trip took the couple to England, where they planned to attend the World Anti-slavery Convention. On board ship, Elizabeth was told to tone down. She asked what she had done wrong. Her critic answered: I heard you call your husband ‘Henry’ in the presence of strangers, which is not permissible in polite society. You should always say ‘Mr. Stanton.’

WORKING FOR THE PEACE CORPS IN PARAGUAY, 1968

Here are the reminiscences of Dick Ginsburg, a former Peace Corps member, who served in rural Paraguay. 

Our Peace Corps group had two months of training in Toluca, Mexico, to learn Spanish, Paraguay’s native tongue (Guarani), and agriculture.  We learned to grow vegetables and to castrate pigs -- all new to me.

We arrived in Paraguay in December, 1968, at the height of summer.  Getting off the plane was like walking into a brick wall of heat.  Paraguay was a backwater, isolated and off the beaten track.  The capital of Asunción was a sleepy city without a traffic light.  Outside of Asunción and a couple of other larger cities in the countryside, there was no electrical service.  Telephone service came only to a central office in most towns.  The highways were unpaved and turned into an impassable quagmire when it rained. 

GESUALDO CASTLE REDUX.  The rebirth of Carlo Gesualdo’s princely residence.

Last month I visited Gesualdo, the home of Carlo Gesualdo, Prince of Venosa, famous for his musical genius, infamous for murdering his wife.

Igor Stravinski visited the site to do homage to the Renaissance composer.  I went to look at the castle, which is being renovated five hundred years after the composer's death.

My amiable host was Giuseppe Mastrominico, a Renaissance man himself, professor of law at the University of Naples, musicologist, choir director, organizer of concerts, and enthusiastic promoter of Gesualdo.

The castle was tenanted until 1980, when an earthquake made it uninhabitable and it was acquired by the town. The renovations have brought to light murals covered by stucco and high wooden ceilings concealed behind lower structures.

The splendid interior court is still masked by scaffolding, but by 2015 one wing will be ready for visitors.

If the initiatives of the town pay off, Gesualdo will become a centre of music, as it was under Prince Carlo.  A beginning has been made with the restoration of the Capella below the castle, which already serves as a concert hall.

But you are waiting to hear about Carlo’s murder? Was he punished? No, it was an honour killing. Carlo considered himself innocent in the eyes of the law, but not in the eyes of God. To atone for the murder, he founded a Capuchin monastery. The deed (framed, under glass) hangs behind the desk of Gesualdo’s mayor.

Carlo's signature, dated 1594