PAGE NINE
More than everything you wanted to
Once every thirty weeks,
Doctor Michael Barton,
smooth-talking smart-dressing
college professor, travels the
diameter of the earth. The only
hitch is all that mileage isn't
racked up tunneling from here
to China but by riding the rails
between Philadelphia and
Middletown.
For like fellow Capitol
professor Lemmuel
Molovinsky, Michael Barton
commutes daily from
Philadelphia. Each morning he
leaves his "modest but
elegantly furnished" Ger
mantown apartment, gets into
his tan 1971 Pontiac and drives
down to the station in time to
catch the Harrisburg Express.
By 11:35 - if all goes well with
Penn-Central - Michael Barton
is in Middletown. Briefcase in
hand, he hikes to Route 230 and
sticks out his thumb.
Like Sisyphus, who was
continually rolling rocks up
hills, Michael Barton is con
tinually trying to get from the
Middletown train station to
Capitol Campus.
"I usually watch a dozen
students pass me by until I
throw myself in front of a car -
then they stop. Students must
realize when they see old
people walking with briefcases
on main highways that they are
professors who need rides.
Students should not pass us up.
We are not dangerous".
For that matter, Michael
Barton does not even appear
dangerous. His manners are
polite - though perhaps a bit
threatening at test time. He
dresses well - like a funeral
director at a Playboy Club and
his voice... well, his voice is so
sincere that you want to buy a
used car from him.
In short, he bears a strange
psychic resemblance to Dick
Cavett and, like Cavett,
Michael Barton is a product of
Nebraska. He was born in
Omaha but after six months
moved to Lincoln - "like most
people in Qmaha would like to
do".
For 24 years, he roamed
those plains, playing cowboys
and Indians and dreaming
about becoming a history
professor. When it came time
to select a college, Michael
Barton had "visions of going to
Yale but Yale didn't have those
same visions although their
admissions director flew into
town to stare at me for my
courage". He attended the
University of Nebraska on a
handful of scholarships.
As an undergraduate, he was
a campus politician and as
much of a jock as a 5'7"
sociology major could be
(intramural paddleball
champion). He was also an
evangelist.
"I used to be quite religious
and, in college, got involved in
several fundamentalist youth
organizations. There was this
sense that I and perhaps a few
million other people really
knew what was going on in the
world. Most of the other people
lived in darkness and it was our
function to bring the gospel to
them.
"Later, after I'd taken
several courses on religion,
know about Michael Barton
ethical theory, sociology and so
on, I said to myself, 'Fun
damentalism is wanting in
many respects - at least in
tellectually'. I had a professor
who told me that 'a good
religion is one that gives
meaning to life's experiences
without contradicting the
known facts of science'. My
childhood faith didn't do that.
In retrospect, I'm grateful for
having had access to another
world view".
Today Michael Barton
considers himself an agnostic
"so far as orthodox beliefs are
concerned". He does, however,
remain a reasonably "firm
beljever in the utility of moral
values".
When not campaigning or
converting, undergraduate
Barton could be heard on a
Wednesday night jazz program
over the university radio
station.
"It was a -very informal
program. I used to give my
friends' names as members of
the bands. People who didn't
know my friends thought I was
being very straight, when I'd
say John Unthank was on
drums, but back in my
fraternity John Unthank was
laughing his ass off".
After graduation, Michael
Barton continued his study of
history and anthropology at the
University of Nebraska
graduate school. He also
married Jane Warnsholz, a girl
he met in Spanish class. "We
had both been class presidents
in high school".
He received his first
master's degree and, after
receiving the promise of a
draft deferment, he joined the
Peace Corp. Jane and Michael
Barton were sent to the island
of Udot in the South Pacific.
They were there long enough to
take a memorable series of
slides (shown upon request -
Ed.) before Lyndon Johnson
decided they needed Michael
Barton in Viet Nam.
"Jane and I considered
several options, before
returning to the States. I
enlisted in the Air Force Pilot
Training Program... thought
maybe I'd learn how to fly, get
some stateside runs, maybe
become a steward on Air Force
One".
And there was one more
reason; recruits who opted out
of the training program would
only have to serve two years,
when every other enlistment
option required four.
"I decided very quickly I was
not born to fight and fly. I
wound up as a clerk at
Lackland Air Force Base,
which was much like working
for the post office except you
wore funny clothes".
Life at the Texas air base
treated the Bartons well, since
Jane was a medical
technologist. They visited
Mexico twice and generally
managed to lead a normal
existance. For a time, Michael
Barton worked as a disc jockey
on a 100,000 watt San Antonio
muzak station and later he
became a booth announcer for
a television station. And then
Michael Barton's enlistment
was up...
C.C. READER
by Doug Gibboney
"All in all, we landed on our
feet. We managed to use the
system even though one has
misgivings about doing that at
times. I was with people in
training who were attorneys
and weren't able to use the
system as well as I did. Other
people I trained with are no
doubt dead now because they
weren't able to avoid going
overseas. They didn't ship me
over there because I only had a
two year contract."
"It was one of the more
embittering experiences of my
life. I didn't become totally
embittered. It's not really too
productive to become too bitter
or too cynical. Still, it makes
you wary of a lot of things -
your government, soldiers of
foreign policy..."
After being discharged,
Michael Barton continued to
pursue the old dream of at
tending an ivy league school
and becoming a professor. The
University of Pennsylvania
had an excellent program that
combined history with an
thropology and sociology, so
the Bartons headed east.
It was through the University
of Pennsylvania that Michael
Barton reached Capitol
Campus. He was hired in part
because of his affiliation with a
particular university.
"This is a system that is
unfair to those people who
come from lesser universities
but one can argue those people
should have known that. This is
the obvious reason everyone
wants to go to Harvard.
"If one goes to Kent State
and earns a Ph D, those of us
who went to Penn can say he
should suffer for that choice.
The market is rather blood
thirsty in that respect".
Michael Barton likes Capitol
Campus and enjoys teaching
his classes in American
Character, Cultural An
thropology and kindred sub
jects. One of his more famous
quotes is that "aftera while, all
those courses turn out the
same".
The students at Capitol, he
believes, are as good and as
bad as students everywhere.
Michael Barton says he has "a
good deal of respect for the
faculty" and he considers them
as good as the faculties you'll
find at major universities.
"Like all professors, though,
they make an impact in only
one way and that's with their
intelligence. Nowdays that is a
fragile commodity because it is
so easily attacked". He feels
many profs invest their egos in
their work to a point where
they can't afford to be wrong.
He recalls a quote from an old
Alec Guiness movie: "The
more store a man puts in his
wits, the quicker he loses
them".
Michael Barton feels this
brings about a certain amount
of catiness among faculty
members everywhere in a
system that is easy to go along
with but tough to break.
The "Publish or Perish"
syndrone is also evident at
Capitol but Michael Barton
thinks "it is not as severe here
as at other institutions". Still,
Michael Barton is preparing
two books.
Scheduled to be finished next
year, one book deals with the
history of American psychiatry
and is designed to be a
response to recent criticisms of
the field. Michael Barton is co
author.
"I hope the book is received
well. It's intended to be a
corrective to a number of
overly critical histories that
are selling well these days. We
continue to complain about the
short-comings that exist in the
care of the mentally disturbed
but we tend to forget just how
far we have come in the last
thirty to fifty years".
Michael Barton admits to
being somewhat of a cocktail
party liberal and says the Che
Guevara poster on the wall of
his office is "only there
because he has a nice face".
"The cost of trying to be an
authentic liberal is profound
and all encompassing. So you
make gestures - give a few
bucks here and there, vote for .
McGovern, speak to a few
people whoagree with you, like
students, but rarely with those
who don't".
He does feel strongly about
feminism. "I'm convinced
women are discriminated
against in ways a man can't
appreciate. I'm also beginning
to believe that the way for me
to evaluate a man is in terms-of
what he thinks of women”,
Michael Barton attributes his
feelings about the women's
movement to incidents his
wife, Jane, has encountered as
a medical student in
Philadelphia.
"She copes very well, and
she's one of the better students
nationally. But all the subtle
and blatant discrimination
amazes me. Few people
achieve perfection, but some
are perfect fools. You're
doubly impressed because they
don't realize the measure of
their disrespect for women.
For that reason, women know
their progress is in their own
hands, and, moreover, that
progress is attainable. I'd
rather be a woman in America
than anywhere else."
(Editor's note: The final
few graphs of this article
were inadvertently destroy
ed while Doctor Barton was
proofing the copy. The
doctor suddenly began
mumbling something
about being thrown to the
wolves for the amusement
of an elite few, and started
gnawing on the manu
script. What could be
salvaged was returned to
the newspaper office where
it remained under lock until
being sent to the printer.
The Reader staff had
reservations about having
the thing published and it
would not have seen the
light of day except for a
long distance call from
Philadelphia which was
received shortly after the
Army-Navy game last Sat
urday. A spokesperson for
Doctor Barton was on the
line, claiming the good
doctor didn't care what we
published and if we wanted
to we could have a good
DECEMBER 6 1974
Dr. Michael Barton
time "picking the carcass
because we wouldn't have
Mike Barton to kick around
anymore." The Reader staff
believes this means Doctor
Barton may refuse any
future interviews.)
Meade
Black-Out
End of the term -
paranoia time - finals and
projects piling up - Spnday
night, December Ist, was
no time for the lights to go
out on campus. You might
have been anywhere, living
room, kitchen, bedroom
but the bathroom is the
worse place to get caught
in when the lights go out.
Safely navigating out of
the afore mentioned pre
dicament, I met the other
roommates in my house in
the living room. We debat
ed the question of the black
out during the initial first
few minutes. A quick check
found our household with
out candles, not even a
transitbr radio to compete
with the sound of the wind
whipping outside the
house.
The lights had gone out
in the Heights last spring
for about 5 hours, but this
was winter time, with a
possible 4 to 8 inches of
snow on the way - so the
gas burners on top of the
stove went on right away.
We congregated in the
kitchen for awhile, watch
ing the house across the
street. Matches would flic
ker on and off as candles
were lit, while we cursed
the darkness.
Thoughts now ran to
hoping that the food in the
freezer would stay frozen
and not thaw out. Money
and food stamps are hard
to come by these days.
At this present writing,
sleep has overtaken my two
roommates. It's funny how
we depend on electricity so
much. The power was off
for only one hour and
forty-five minutes, yet it
seemed like an eternity.
signed, Ready Kilowatt