One of the reasons I decided to write books was this man, Stanford’s David Kennedy.
I took a class in 2004 from Dr. Kennedy, who won the Pulitzer Prize for his history of America during the Great Depression and the Second World
War, Freedom from Fear, and was transfixed by his clear-headed and richly anecdotal re-telling of the years that formed my parents, and, of course, myself.
Dan Krieger (European history) and Jim Hayes (Journalism), two Poly professors in a lifetime of wonderful teachers, are among the other reasons I wanted to teach history and write about it, as well.
Jim Hayes. I know that look very well. It says: “Re-write.”
At the University of Missouri, Charles Dew’s teaching on the history of African-American slavery–another book that was formative to me was Genovese’s, part of Dew’s required readings–David Thelen’s teaching on Populism and the Progressive movement, Winfield Burggraff’s teaching on Latin American history, and Richard Bienvenu’s teaching on the history of socialist thought all made me want to be like them.
Two teachers at Arroyo Grande High School–Carol Hirons (Journalism) and Sara Steigerwalt (Speech) had already taught me, without me knowing it, HOW to teach history.
The first teacher who told me that I should write books was my Branch School teacher in 5th and 6th grades, Mr. William E. Burns Jr.
Branch School, in its two-room version. In 1962, we moved to a school with four rooms.
I am inordinately lucky.
So when I found out that Prof. Kennedy’s wife, Judy, grew up in SLO County, I contacted him to send her a copy of the “Outlaws” book, a proposition he very kindly accepted.
Here’s the surprising part: Mrs. Kennedy is Alex Madonna’s niece, and my Dad was Madonna Construction Company’s comptroller in the 1950s and 1960s. It is, after all, a small world, and still rich with stories to be told.
This is where I grew up–the Upper Arroyo Grande Valley.
I wouldn’t have any stories to tell except for the place where I grew up, except for my parents, except for my teachers. I don’t think any of the last, from Mr. Burns to Dr. Kennedy, know how profound their impact has been, and how long it will last–past their lifetimes, past mine, in small ways, in small stories vividly re-told.
Teachers live lives that will color and enliven the lives of children not yet born. It is these children, God willing, who will heal the wounds that history inflicts on all of us.
It is teachers that will show them the way home to their ideals, and to ours.
A Work in Progress 