Filming at Duke: Volker Schlöndorff's 'The Handmaid's Tale' (1990)

Volker Schlöndorff's 1990 cinematic adaptation of Margaret Atwood's 1985 novel The Handmaid's Tale was partly filmed at Duke University, in Durham, North Carolina, in 1989. Here are a few snapshots that document the event.  

A hanging scene was filmed on the other side of this barrier. 

The Commander's convoy, ready to roll. I was working at Perkins Library at the time, in the Public Documents & Maps Department, specializing in state and international documents. 

Erik Donald France to Wallace Fowlie, February 20, 1991

[Though earlier I'd donated to Duke letters from Wallace Fowlie (1908-1998) to me, more recently, in sorting through my files, I came across photocopies of at least some of the letters I wrote to him. Here's another one of them, from when I lived near Little River Church Road in Hurdle Mills, North Carolina. Ellipses indicate slight editing (deletion of a few personal details). For his other letters, please see Wallace Fowlie Papers, David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University. Here's a link to the collection guide.]

                                              Hurdle Mills, NC
                                              February 20, 1991

Dear Wallace,

Yesterday I read the Baudelaire chapter in Poem & Symbol; afterwards I took a roundabout walk through Chapel Hill and Carrboro and let my thoughts react to the physical sensations of seeing, smelling, hearing, feeling. By the time I looped back to downtown Franklin Street, the town had changed into a city block. I could distinctly smell the burnt cinders of the Continental Café, which was destroyed last weekend.

La forme d’une ville

Change plus vite, hélas, que le Coeur d’un mortel.

["The shape of a city

Changes faster, alas, than the heart of a mortal." 

~ Charles Baudelaire, «Le Cygne» ("The Swan," 1857)]

Poem & Symbol is exciting. Your writing is compact and forceful. I remember that when [Y] first told me about you years ago, you were teaching a class on the French Symbolists, and I read a few monographs about them, but none as stimulating as this. It’s the impact of your economic style, which is what I admire about my favorite French writers, too.

How have you been? Has The Doors Complete been published? I am anxious to know the outcome of your dealings with Sugarman and Lisciandro; also whether you have any opinions about the Oliver Stone movie due in March. Morrison is a difficult character to portray fairly to the American public. Most will react negatively to him. They’ll be scandalized by his behavior. I am excited by the movie and hope it’s good. Did you have a chance to see Henry & June? It was well-directed and well-shot, and also “scandalous.” Uniformed police guarded the entrance to the theater.

I hope all is well with you and that Carol Woods in endurable. Let’s get together soon, if possible. [Y] and I are fine, still working on our studies at UNC. I’ll be receiving my master’s in library science in May [which turned out to be December due to a technical glitch] . . .

Warmly yours,

Erik

[The Continental Café and Hector's were linked eateries on Henderson Street, just off Franklin and across from the US Post Office. These were favorites as an undergraduate. The Greek owners were originally from a Greek island in the Eastern Mediterranean Sea, off the coast of Turkey. The Continental had what looked like round white shields on the outside, and columns. Entering, the interior had cool images of what I interpreted as scenes from the Trojan War and Greek mythology, soldiers with plumed helmets and weaponry, &c. I loved it. It seems as if it was slightly below street level, and was darker inside, some wood paneling. There was a serene waitress with very long hair, maybe waist-length; she had the sangfroid of the Greek actress Irene Papas. This was a sit-down place. Hector's was brighter, on the corner of Franklin and Henderson, with a different entrance, and was open late; it served hot fries and tzatziki-lathered souvlakia and gyros wrapped in tin foil. It had stools and mirrors and windows and was more like a fast-food place.

Sugarman and Lisciandro = Danny Sugarman (1954-2005), who worked with The Doors and Iggy Pop, and Frank Lisciandro, whose Morrison: A Feast of Friends came out in 1991.

Oliver Stone -- The Doors (1991). Starring Val Kilmer as Jim Morrison, Kyle MacLachlan as Ray Manzarek and Meg Ryan as Pamela Courson.

Henry & June (1990), directed by Philip Kaufman and rated NC-17. Starring Maria de Medeiros as Anaïs Nin, Uma Thurman as June Smerdt Miller and Fred Ward as Henry Miller.

Carol Woods = at 750 Weaver Dairy Road, Chapel Hill.

Library school. Little did I know in walking the area in the spirit of Baudelaire that I would be living in London later that year, and move to Philadelphia the following January. I still enjoy seeing Chapel Hill and Carrboro, but am now lucky if I'm able to travel there two or three times per year. Baudelaire was right.]

Erik Donald France to Wallace Fowlie, August 23, 1989

[Though earlier I'd donated to Duke letters from Wallace Fowlie (1908-1998) to me, more recently, in sorting through my files, I came across photocopies of at least some of the letters I wrote to him. Here's another one of them, from when I lived near Little River Church Road in Hurdle Mills, North Carolina. Ellipses indicate slight editing (deletion of a few personal details). For his other letters, please see Wallace Fowlie Papers, David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University. Here's a link to the collection guide.]

                                           Hurdle Mills, NC
                                           August 23, 1989

Dear Wallace,

I was very glad to hear from you. For a little while, I was worried; however, it's not surprising that you chose Chapel Hill over Burlington as a place to retire. I don't know what Carol Woods is like, but I hope you're becoming more comfortable with the arrangement.*

I would love to visit you, as would [Y] if you're taking visitors. The last weeks and even the next one have been & will be hectic. My friend [C] lost his father this past month. You may have known him, he was a distinguished Chemistry Prof. at UNC ([CM]). [C] and his wife [J] are now travelling in France & Italy, a trip they had earlier planned. Now my grandfather** is seriously ill, so [Y] & I are going to drive my mother to Pennsylvania to see him. 

Things will have calmed by next week at this time. I shall give you a call; but please write if you'd like. 

([B] mentioned the pleasant evening he had with you).

If you're not taking visitors, perhaps we can go to Pyewackett [Pyewacket]*** or somewhere. Remember that Chapel Hill has been my hangout for the past 10 years!  

I hope you are doing well, Wallace. Please take care & be at ease. If you ever need anything, please call me at work or home at any time. Hope to see you soon.  

Affectionately Yours,
Erik

[*750 Weaver Dairy Road, Chapel Hill. 

**Eugene Levering Shaffer (November 4, 1909-October 7, 1989).

**Pyewacket Restaurant at 431 West Franklin Street. It ran from the late 1970s until the early 2000s. Situated near where I'd worked at Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill earlier in the 1980s, my favorites included ahead-of-their-time salads like the Morning Star with zesty dressings such as Umeboshi Plum, Lemon Tamari and Moutarde de Meaux. "Seasonal Eclectic Cuisine." Fantastic!] 

Erik Donald France to Wallace Fowlie, July 8, 1989

[Though earlier I'd donated to Duke letters from Wallace Fowlie (1908-1998) to me, more recently, in sorting through my files, I came across photocopies of at least some of the letters I wrote to him. Here's another one of them, from when I lived near Little River Church Road in Hurdle Mills, North Carolina. Ellipses indicate slight editing (deletion of a few personal details). For his other letters, please see Wallace Fowlie Papers, David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University. Here's a link to the collection guide.]

                                           Hurdle Mills, NC
                                             July 8, 1989

Dear Wallace,

Are you doing well? The Summer is here, and not a bad one like last year. I have returned from the underground! It has been a challenge to juggle day-to-day work with school and home -- home which includes reading and writing, gardening and contemplation. That is my excuse for not getting back to you sooner. Now, about 5 months later, I look back and see some accomplishments.

First, I finished Within a Budding Grove. What can be said? Of course, it was superb. The Guermantes Way now beckons. Proust is a genius, even in English. When well-versed in French, I'll tackle the original -- if life permits. I have a few related questions about this: was Elstir based on an actual painter? What kind of name is Elstir & why did Proust choose it?

[Y, X] & I watched the German film Swann in Love. We had mixed feelings about it. Though I enjoyed its look and much of its feel, the almost humorous emphasis on the disparity between servants and self-indulgent aristocrats nearly destroyed the fragility of Proust's balance. I forgot to mention that last year [Y] and I saw The Rules of the Game, which she had seen and loved several years before. I think that this is the most fantastic movie I've ever seen. It's showing again on some late night satellite channel, which I'll ask [Z] to tape.

Well, my next major accomplishment was to read Aubade. It was immensely enjoyable to read . . . The text is balanced, thoughtful, and compassionate; it is also inspiring. It would take time to craft the reaction or response to your work that it merits. But for now let me say that you've moved me to pursue self-reflection to a deeper level. You've inspired me to widen my inquiry into being. Your homages were so honest and decent that I've pursued and read Dante's Inferno and Montaigne's Apology for Raymond Sebond and also sparked an interest in Latin and the Classics. I thank you for that!

This year has been in many ways dreadful.* The oil spills, Communist China, the American mob aroused by mobster idealogues [ideologues] -- where will it end but in more violence? The Iranians condemn Rushdie, the Chinese condemn the goddess of Democracy, the tyrannous American majority condemns freedom of speech -- hasn't this all happened enough?

I hope, Wallace, that you are doing well. This week we celebrate Bastille Day and liberty. fraternity, and equality. Have you found your place of retirement? Please let me know how you're doing. Perhaps we can meet again before the Fall semester?

Take care, and all my best.

                                                 Erik 

[*Oil spills = Exxon Valdez, Prince William Sound, Alaska. 
Iranians/Rushdie = fatwā against author Salman Rushdie. 
Chinese/Goddess of Democracy = Tiananmen Square.
Freedom of Speech = Robert Mapplethorpe exhibition at the Corcoran, Jesse Helms/Dick Armey protest; Texas v. Johnson, 491 US 397 (1989): Supreme Court ruled that the First Amendment protects the right to burn US flags, which annoyed many but was clearly correct]. 

Erik Donald France to Wallace Fowlie, January 4, 1989

[Though earlier I'd donated to Duke letters from Wallace Fowlie (1908-1998) to me, more recently, in sorting through my files, I came across photocopies of at least some of the letters I wrote to him. Here's another one of them, from when I lived near Little River Church Road in Hurdle Mills, North Carolina. Ellipses indicate slight editing (deletion of a few personal details). For his other letters, please see Wallace Fowlie Papers, David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University. Here's a link to the collection guide.]

                                                      Hurdle Mills, NC
                                                      January 4th, 1989

Dear Wallace,

. . . Happy New Year's to you -- I hope you've had a pleasant holiday. How did your lecture on Marcel Proust go? Was Roger Shattuck there? I wish I could have been a fly on the wall. I read the C.K. Scott Moncrieff translation [of] Swann's Way and the first part of Within a Budding Grove. Before I proceed on this course, do you think it's disastrous? Is there another translation you prefer? I can tell you I've gotten much out of Moncrieff. I wish I could tackle the original -- someday I will, in another life perhaps. I'm much taken by the descriptions of the streets of Paris, just the little incidents. They bring back memories of Balzac. The Paris I saw was very different, modern. Proust's is so nineteenth century, before the 1914 war.

Did Germaine Brée talk at Birmingham? I learned a lot from Twentieth-Century French Literature.

I love Paris, can't not think about it. I love reading descriptions and passages about [the city]. 

I finished reading, a couple of weeks ago and on your recommendation, a Henry Miller book. Tropic of Cancer. A thoroughly enjoyable book! To think that it was held back from American publication for thirty years. it's difficult to imagine now. I'm getting ready to dive into Black Spring. Do you think that's the one to read next? I picked up a copy at the Gothic.

I want to absorb everything quickly, but there's work and my library classes. . . There's so much to do. I don't like working for other people at all. My family, my friends, yes, and for myself. Everything else is a farce. (Isn't that Rimbaud?) Or Voltaire: "Men judge everything without knowing anything." That's me.

What are you up to? How is your fourth memoir coming? Are you teaching this semester? I have been tracking you in newspapers and flyers as you teach Proust, appear in an October R & R Weekly, give lectures on Dante. I can't guess your next move. Are you still giving French lessons?

Please find enclosed "Rimbaud" by Jack Kerouac, which I promised you some time ago. I should have sent it to you sooner. I found it in Scattered Poems (City Lights, 1971), comp. by Ann Charters. I was lucky enough to hear a tape of Kerouac and can now answer your question about his accent -- definitely not French. New England and New York, not French or Quebec. He did speak and read it, and felt devotion to his French Catholic background. I like him. 

I include also a little thing, a feuilleton written in 1986 and included in the little review Dog Food from that fall. I think you will understand why I sent it. Please give me your honest opinion as to what you think.

Have you been able to work any more on that Rimbuad-rock thesis? There are references and groups that I've come across and I will piece them together when I have some spare time. . .

What was that French compilation of Jim Morrison's poems you mentioned? I couldn't find it anywhere. 

By the way, did you see Bob Dylan when he came to Chapel Hill? I saw him, and I saw Iggy Pop in Charlotte. Iggy is a type of Rimbaud, a fan of Morrison and a wild performer in his own right!

                                            Warmly Yours,
                                             Erik France

P.S. Do you know of any 75th Anniv. translations of Alcools? I can't get enough of "Zone."

     

ZONE (Apollinaire, 1913)

À la fin tu es las de ce monde ancien

Bergère ô tour Eiffel le troupeau des ponts bêle ce matin

Tu en as assez de vivre dans l’antiquité grecque et romaine

Ici même les automobiles ont l’air d’être anciennes
La religion seule est restée toute neuve la religion
Est restée simple comme les hangars de Port-Aviation

Seul en Europe tu n’es pas antique ô Christianisme
L’Européen le plus moderne c’est vous Pape Pie X
Et toi que les fenêtres observent la honte te retient
D’entrer dans une église et de t’y confesser ce matin
Tu lis les prospectus les catalogues les affiches qui chantent tout haut

Voilà la poésie ce matin et pour la prose il y a les journaux
Il y a les livraisons à 25 centimes pleines d’aventures policières
Portraits des grands hommes et mille titres divers

J’ai vu ce matin une jolie rue dont j’ai oublié le nom
Neuve et propre du soleil elle était le clairon
Les directeurs les ouvriers et les belles sténo-dactylographes
Du lundi matin au samedi soir quatre fois par jour y passent
Le matin par trois fois la sirène y gémit
Une cloche rageuse y aboie vers midi
Les inscriptions des enseignes et des murailles
Les plaques les avis à la façon des perroquets criaillent
J’aime la grâce de cette rue industrielle
Située à Paris entre la rue Aumont-Thiéville et l’avenue des Ternes

Voilà la jeune rue et tu n’es encore qu’un petit enfant
Ta mère ne t’habille que de bleu et de blanc
Tu es très pieux et avec le plus ancien de tes camarades René Dalize
Vous n’aimez rien tant que les pompes de l’Église
Il est neuf heures le gaz est baissé tout bleu vous sortez du dortoir en cachette

Vous priez toute la nuit dans la chapelle du collège
Tandis qu’éternelle et adorable profondeur améthyste
Tourne à jamais la flamboyante gloire du Christ
C’est le beau lys que tous nous cultivons
C’est la torche aux cheveux roux que n’éteint pas le vent
C’est le fils pâle et vermeil de la douloureuse mère
C’est l’arbre toujours touffu de toutes les prières
C’est la double potence de l’honneur et de l’éternité
C’est l’étoile à six branches
C’est Dieu qui meurt le vendredi et ressuscite le dimanche
C’est le Christ qui monte au ciel mieux que les aviateurs
Il détient le record du monde pour la hauteur
Pupille Christ de l’œil
Vingtième pupille des siècles il sait y faire
Et changé en oiseau ce siècle comme Jésus monte dans l’air
Les diables dans les abîmes lèvent la tête pour le regarder
Ils disent qu’il imite Simon Mage en Judée
Ils crient s’il sait voler qu’on l’appelle voleur
Les anges voltigent autour du joli voltigeur
Icare Enoch Elie Apollonius de Thyane
Flottent autour du premier aéroplane
Ils s’écartent parfois pour laisser passer ceux que transporte la Sainte-Eucharistie

Ces prêtres qui montent éternellement en élevant l’hostie
L’avion se pose enfin sans refermer les ailes
Le ciel s’emplit alors de millions d’hirondelles
À tire-d’aile viennent les corbeaux les faucons les hiboux
D’Afrique arrivent les ibis les flamands les marabouts
L’oiseau Roc célébré par les conteurs et les poètes
Plane tenant dans les serres le crâne d’Adam la première tête
L’aigle fond de l’horizon en poussant un grand cri
Et d’Amérique vient le petit colibri
De Chine sont venus les pihis longs et souples
Qui n’ont qu’une seule aile et qui volent par couples
Puis voici la colombe esprit immaculé
Qu’escortent l’oiseau-lyre et le paon ocellé
Le phénix ce bûcher qui soi-même s’engendre
Un instant voile tout de son ardente cendre
Les sirènes laissant les périlleux détroits
Arrivent en chantant bellement toutes trois
Et tous aigle phénix et pihis de la Chine
Fraternisent avec la volante machine

Maintenant tu marches dans Paris tout seul parmi la foule

Des troupeaux d’autobus mugissants près de toi roulent
L’angoisse de l’amour te serre le gosier
Comme si tu ne devais jamais plus être aimé
Si tu vivais dans l’ancien temps tu entrerais dans un monastère
Vous avez honte quand vous vous surprenez à dire une prière
Tu te moques de toi et comme le feu de l’Enfer ton rire pétille
Les étincelles de ton rire dorent le fonds de ta vie
C’est un tableau pendu dans un sombre musée
Et quelquefois tu vas la regarder de près

Aujourd’hui tu marches dans Paris les femmes sont ensanglantées
C’était et je voudrais ne pas m’en souvenir c’était au déclin de la beauté

Entourée de flammes ferventes Notre-Dame m’a regardé à Chartres
Le sang de votre Sacré-Cœur m’a inondé à Montmartre
Je suis malade d’ouïr les paroles bienheureuses
L’amour dont je souffre est une maladie honteuse
Et l’image qui te possède te fait survivre dans l’insomnie et dans l’angoisse

C’est toujours près de toi cette image qui passe

Maintenant tu es au bord de la Méditerranée
Sous les citronniers qui sont en fleur toute l’année
Avec tes amis tu te promènes en barque
L’un est Nissard il y a un Mentonasque et deux Turbiasques
Nous regardons avec effroi les poulpes des profondeurs
Et parmi les algues nagent les poissons images du Sauveur

Tu es dans le jardin d’une auberge aux environs de Prague
Tu te sens tout heureux une rose est sur la table
Et tu observes au lieu d’écrire ton conte en prose
La cétoine qui dort dans le cœur de la rose

Épouvanté tu te vois dessiné dans les agates de Saint-Vit
Tu étais triste à mourir le jour où tu t’y vis
Tu ressembles au Lazare affolé par le jour
Les aiguilles de l’horloge du quartier juif vont à rebours
Et tu recules aussi dans ta vie lentement
En montant au Hradchin et le soir en écoutant
Dans les tavernes chanter des chansons tchèques

Te voici à Marseille au milieu des pastèques

Te voici à Coblence à l’hôtel du Géant

Te voici à Rome assis sous un néflier du Japon

Te voici à Amsterdam avec une jeune fille que tu trouves belle et qui est laide
Elle doit se marier avec un étudiant de Leyde
On y loue des chambres en latin Cubicula locanda
Je m’en souviens j’y ai passé trois jours et autant à Gouda

Tu es à Paris chez le juge d’instruction
Comme un criminel on te met en état d’arrestation
Tu as fait de douloureux et de joyeux voyages
Avant de t’apercevoir du mensonge et de l’âge
Tu as souffert de l’amour à vingt et à trente ans
J’ai vécu comme un fou et j’ai perdu mon temps
Tu n’oses plus regarder tes mains et à tous moments je voudrais sangloter
Sur toi sur celle que j’aime sur tout ce qui t’a épouvanté

Tu regardes les yeux pleins de larmes ces pauvres émigrants

Ils croient en Dieu ils prient les femmes allaitent des enfants
Ils emplissent de leur odeur le hall de la gare Saint-Lazare
Ils ont foi dans leur étoile comme les rois-mages
Ils espèrent gagner de l’argent dans l’Argentine
Et revenir dans leur pays après avoir fait fortune
Une famille transporte un édredon rouge comme vous transportez votre cœur
Cet édredon et nos rêves sont aussi irréels
Quelques-uns de ces émigrants restent ici et se logent
Rue des Rosiers ou rue des Écouffes dans des bouges
Je les ai vus souvent le soir ils prennent l’air dans la rue
Et se déplacent rarement comme les pièces aux échecs
Il y a surtout des Juifs leurs femmes portent perruque
Elles restent assises exsangues au fond des boutiques

Tu es debout devant devant le zinc d’un bar crapuleux
Tu prends un café à deux sous parmi les malheureux

Tu es la nuit dans un grand restaurant

Ces femmes ne sont pas méchantes elles ont des soucis cependant
Toutes même la plus laide a fait souffrir son amant
Elle est la fille d’un sergent de ville de Jersey

Ses mains que je n’avais pas vues sont dures et gercées

J’ai une pitié immense pour les coutures de son ventre

J’humilie maintenant à une pauvre fille au rire horrible ma bouche

Tu es seul le matin va venir
Les laitiers font tinter leurs bidons dans les rues

La nuit s’éloigne ainsi qu’une belle Métive
C’est Ferdine la fausse ou Léa l’attentive

Et tu bois cet alcool brûlant comme ta vie
Ta vie que tu bois comme une eau-de-vie

Tu marches vers Auteuil tu veux aller chez toi à pied
Dormir parmi tes fétiches d’Océanie et de Guinée
Ils sont des Christ d’une autre forme et d’une autre croyance
Ce sont les Christ inférieurs des obscures espérances

Adieu Adieu

Soleil cou coupé

Letter from Wallace Fowlie, August 6, 1989

Letter from Wallace Fowlie (1908-1998) at Chapel Hill to Erik France, August 6, 1989.

Dear Erik,

Your letter cheered me. I have been in the retirement center almost two months and am still bewildered by the great change it means. I miss my home (of 25 years) and my books (I had to sell 3000 books). I am trying to reorder my life but it is hard. I feel cast off from the Duke world.

I hope you will come visit me. your letter is full of good things you are doing: Proust in particular. Elstir is an invention but it is surely based on Whistler, a painter who used to call on Mallarmé. Elstir has something of Renoir in him, and Monet, and Seurat, and others. 

Was the German film you and Liz and Evan saw Céleste? I enjoyed it very much. Swann in Love has Jermey Irons playing Swann (a German director).

La Règle du jeu (Rules of the Game) is a masterpiece -- I agree.

Friday night I had dinner at Ann Marie Bryan's and met your friend and colleague Stuart (and his wife Claire.)  A most pleasant evening. We spoke of you.

Is Hurdle Mills far off? I hope not.

all good wishes, Erik
Wallace

Letter from Wallace Fowlie, January 7, 1989

Letter from Professor Wallace Fowlie:

[Durham, North Carolina]
7 Jan. 1989

Dear Erik, I am answering immediately to thank you for your good letter and the two pieces enclosed in it: your piece and Kerouac's.

I do appreciate your questions -- let me try to answer some of them and then hope for a meeting with you soon.

The Proust talk went well, I think. Roger Shattuck spoke in October and I in November. No, Germaine Brée did not speak. I would read Tropic of Capricorn before Black Spring. That is the better order. 

I am now preparing my course on Dante which begins next week. Pre-enrollment was 320. I have kept 120 and had to drop 200. 

The fourth memoir is being considered by Duke Press. 

I am glad to have the Kerouac poem -- but do not like it . . . (My Olivetti is wearing out -- sorry.)  I imagine he jotted down facts from Starkie's biography and then listed them . . .

On the other hand, your piece (Curiosity) is excellent! It is new and fresh and witty. Enjoyed the Nappy-Jim section.

I go to Sewanee end of January to give a new version of my Rimbaud-Morrison talk,

Alas, I did not see Bob Dylan in Chapel Hill. Have you seen Shelton's biography of Dylan? A few references to me there.

Kilmartin is the new translation of Proust, based on Scott Moncrieff. Richard Howard has begun a newer translation. 

The best translation of Alcools is by Anne Hyde Greet (U. of Ca. Press). You probably know it.

I hope we can meet again soon. Call me if you see any free time ahead of you.

Bonne Année

I apologize for the appearance of this note. 

Letter from Wallace Fowlie, February 5, 1989

From Wallace Fowlie, Sunday, 5 February [1989].

Dear Erik,

Your visit did me good. On your next visit we'll talk of old times, and Henry Miller (Did you like Capricorn?), and other favorite themes.

I am sending this via campus mail because I am not sure of your address . . .

There will be absences this week because of New Orleans and Mardi Gras. The students usually bring me back a few strings of beads.

I urge you to keep on with the writing -- journal writing -- it is good for body and soul. I must say that both your body and soul seemed in good form, good harmony. 

[A]ll good thoughts, Wallace
[Letter from Wallace Fowlie, February 5, 1989]. I was working in the Public Documents & Maps Department, Perkins Library, Duke University, at the time. Wallace (1908-1998) was still teaching some courses in the Romance Languages Department, as a professor emeritus. 

"In the Heart of Pennsylvania Dutch Country"

This objet de mémoire dates from 1989. Anytime I go anywhere near Shartlesville, Pennsylvania, I will stop here to eat. Wonderful atmosphere and food at Haag's Hotel, which dates back nearly a century. Arrive hungry! First ate here with my family when I was a kid, when we also visited the nearby Roadside America, "World's Greatest Inside Miniature Village," founded in 1939 and at its Shartlesville location since 1941.

SHARTLESVILLE, PENNSYLVANIA . . . Old Rote 22 and I-78 - 45 Miles East of Harrisburg, 35 Miles West of Allentown, 20 Miles North of Reading.

PENNA. DUTCH FAMILY STYLE DINNER include 20 plus dishes from which you can eat all you can . . .

Here's a handy link to Haag's Hotel: http://www.haagshotel.com/home.html

And a link to Roadside America: http://www.roadsideamericainc.com/

The Trial, Part Two: July 11-12, 1985

The Chapel Hill Trial of the Pledge of Resistance demonstrators never came to be. Charges were dismissed in response to this clear case of civil disobedience. Republican Representative Bill Cobey was promptly defeated in the next election cycle (in 1986) by Democrat David Price. Cobey went on to lead the Huckabee for president campaign in North Carolina in 2008; at the time of this post, Price is still serving in the US Congress, and opposed the Iraq War. The Iran-Contra Affair tarnished the Reagan Administration through the end of its second term, but Reagan was followed by George H. W. Bush in the White House in 1989. The US Invasion of Panama began on December 20, 1989. Ronald Reagan died in 2004. Daniel Ortega lost the Nicaraguan presidency in the 1990 election, but regained it in the election of 2006. He was re-elected in 2011, and is, at the time of this post, the current President of Nicaragua.