The Wheatley
School Alumni Association Newsletter # 187
Some
Relatively Long Essays in This Edition, Including One From Los Angeles
Welcome to the Wheatley School
Alumni Association Newsletter # 187, REPORTS FROM LOS
ANGELES - 1/25
Barbara Noble (1968) Writes - “I have been thinking about writing of growing up on
Shepard Lane and the S-Section, as so many others have, but instead I'll
write about L.A. today, as the fires are still burning. I live on the northern
end of Santa Monica now, in a little bungalow complex with a courtyard. It
was once a sleepy beach town, but it has been transformed in the 44 years
I’ve lived here. The charming complexes have mostly been razed for larger,
more densely packed, expensive condos. So much of the history and beauty of
the beach cities has been erased. Funky downtown Santa Monica, Main Street,
Montana Avenue, all with quirky stores replaced by ever changing whatever.
Upscale. More condos, no parking. Inevitable. My first 7+ years I lived
in the Hollywood Hills. Hollywood Boulevard was filled with large ancient
bookstores, movie palaces and of course, Fredricks of Hollywood and the
Pussycat Theatre. All of that is long gone. The restaurant Musso and Frank
still stands. It opened in 1919, and all the great writers that Hollywood
recruited had their own back room. Musso's was a second home to famous
actors, too, from Charlie Chaplin on. I was a regular for lunch at the
counter and with friends for dinner. There was often a lot of table hopping,
as if all your friends showed up at once. I returned after living at the
beach for 20 years, and all the waiters came over to greet me and asked where
I had been. My Hollywood neighborhood
had the old mansions of long dead movie stars, divided up into apartments.
Mine was once owned by Faye Wray, the original scream queen in the 1933 King Kong.
An old timer lived on the street and told stories of Clark Gable and all the
actors partying there. Viva, of Andy Warhol fame, lived upstairs for a time,
and was my friendly neighbor. Marlon Brando had a friend in the building, and
he would visit. The original voice of Disney’s 1937 Snow White
and the Seven Dwarfs, Adriana Caselotti, lived in the
neighborhood, often gardening, and she would sing 'Someday My Prince Will
Come’ rather spontaneously, exactly as she sounded in the movie. L.A. is a very large and
spread out city. But somehow in the 51+ years I’ve lived here, I’ve been in
most of the neighborhoods and have known people all over town. L.A. is a
diverse city, and yes, there have been gang wars in the past, too close to
where I lived in Ocean Park, but there is much intermingling of cultures and
races, and it makes L.A. truly rich. The fires are
unimaginable. It’s like all of Roslyn Heights, Alberson, East Williston, Old
Westbury, Roslyn, Hempstead, Manhasset, Garden City, Great Neck, Wheatley,
Willets Road, North Side, the surrounding schools, temples, churches, parks,
roads, delis, restaurants, everything you’ve known has turned to ash. Every
person scattered, Many pets lost. All the beauty, history, everything.
Historic buildings, architectural landmarks, all gone. It’s devastating. The
local news is covering it 24 hours. And it’s not over. Seeing the billowing
smoke on Tuesday, the first day of the Palisades fire, covering the beach and
the area north of me, and the speed it was moving is burned into my memory.
I’ve seen a lot of fires in L.A., none of them good. It can make the sky
orange and the sun red. Ash falls like snowflakes. This one was plumes and
plumes of white smoke for miles against a gorgeous blue sky. The winds were
so fierce, it was difficult to walk. That night, the winds were howling as
loud as a freight train. And then the fire in Altadena. In the morning, the
tree limbs that the winds snapped were so thick they could have killed a
person walking under them. The sky was black with smoke from Altadena and the
Palisades. Then the Hollywood Hills went up. Then three more. The arsonists love the
Santa Ana winds. Long ago, when I was working up in Malibu, the winds were
blowing, and the arsonists were busy. I had to leave, or I’d never make it
home. I had a small BMW 2002 and proceeded down the Pacific Coast Highway.
First responders were yelling, “GO,” so I did. I might have reached 80 mph.
Maybe more. It was like a war zone. The fire jumped the road. By Wednesday, I got the
alert. The new evacuation zones were six blocks to the west of me, and six
blocks to the north. It was time to pack. When the order comes, you have to
go, ready or not. It is a very strange feeling to imagine everything you have
(and I don’t have a lot) going up in flames, and basically taking a last look
knowing that you have to let it all go. By Thursday afternoon, there was
nothing left to burn in the Palisades, so I felt safe, even though the
evacuations were still in place and a curfew too (a deterrent for those who
will loot). I was lucky. So many were not, and they lost so much more than I
would have. Pacific Palisades was beautiful, as was Altadena, Malibu, and the
other neighborhoods that are affected. Real neighborhoods, where people look
out for each other. No neighborhood is only wealthy, and few homes can be
fully covered by insurance, as the insurance companies won’t take that risk. Fire trucks have been
racing here from eight states, Mexico, and Canada. The outpouring of help is
enough to touch anyone’s heart. One temple raised $10,000 within an hour to
deliver and buy lunches for the fire stations, and the money is still coming.
Food trucks have gathered to give out free food. People are showing up with
diapers, water, clothes, toiletries, and everything else you can think of.
The stories are so sad. There are so many of them. All of L.A. is
heartbroken. As the billowing smoke has burned into my memory, so have the
stories. The thing is, I love
L.A.” A second Wheatley graduate wrote that a third Wheatley graduate “was
evacuated, sheltering with her son and fearful that they lost their home....
I'm sure there are other Wheatley-ites as well...” Class of 1975 Needs
A Bass Player
Mid-1970s alum needed to play bass at Class of ‘75’s 50th-Year
Reunion Celebration.
As part of the Class of
1975’s 50th-year reunion weekend festivities, the Class’s Reunion Committee
is planning an open music jam for classmates. We aren’t aware of any bass
players in our class, but it would be fun to reconnect and play with someone
we know from Wheatley. Details are still being worked out, but the jam will
probably take place on October 10 or 11, either at the school or somewhere
nearby. If you play bass, graduated in/around the mid ‘70s, and are
interested in playing in the “house band,” please contact Mark Lubin
at mark.lubin@outlook.com. Class of 1988
Reunion
Several graduates are
already talking about organizing a Class of 1988 Reunion. If you’re
interested in joining them, or just finding out more, please email me, and I
will point you in the correct direction. ARTENGORON@GMAIL.COM “Twins” at a 2010s
Wheatley Luncheon
1967 - Stephens and Stevens
L-R - Mitch
Stephens and Nancy Stevens 1961 and 1968 - Mintz and Mintz
L-R - Jerry
Mintz (1961) and Lisa Mintz (1968) The Wheatley School
Alumni Public Directory Is Alive and Well
The. Wheatley Alumni Directory Thoughts About
Wheatley
Barbara Rosenbaum Carey (1964)
Writes - “As students, it’s
difficult to appreciate and recognize what a remarkable school we were lucky
enough to attend. (I didn’t have a clue!) We can see that now, looking back.” Happy New Year. Barbara Rosenbaum Carey
‘64 Jill Simon Forte (1967) Writes - “This morning, reading the newsletter made me proud to
have been a graduate of Wheatley . Even if I didn’t reap all of the benefits
of the wonderful school . The writing of Miles Fidelman (1971)
in the previous issue demonstrates that there are still many great and
empathetic people out here.” Faculty
Bob Martin (1959) Writes - “HELP! I need information about Mrs. Lula Smith, who
taught me general science in ninth grade at the Willets Road School (when
Wheatley was being built), 1955-56. Does anyone know anything about her?” Graduates
Wheatley and the Massachusetts
Institute of Technology Karen Wattel Arenson (1966) Writes
- Hi Arthur, I was interested to
see notes in the Jan. 4, 2025 Wheatley Newsletter (Issue # 186) from two
alums who went from Wheatley to MIT: Miles Fidelman (Wheatley ’71), who is
coming up on his 50th-year MIT reunion, and Todd Glickman (Wheatley ’73), who
was active in MIT’s radio station, which was then named WTBS — until MIT sold
the call letters to Ted Turner, who wanted those call letters as his own. An
MIT News Release in 2001 said Todd was the MIT station’s first meteorologist
and quoted him as follows: “‘Ted Turner's generous contribution helped us
update our technical equipment at a critical time,' said Todd Glickman, Class
of 1977, President of the Technology Broadcasting Corp., which oversees the
station. Mr. Glickman became the station's first meteorologist during his
freshman year and has been involved ever since.” Todd is still at MIT as its
Senior Director of Corporate Relations. Ned Lagin and I both went
from the Wheatley Class of ’66 to the MIT class of ’70. Kathy Kram followed
soon after (Wheatley ’68 and MIT ’72). John Corwin was two years ahead of Ned
and me: Wheatley ’64 and MIT ’68, and he earned a law degree from Harvard in
’73. Ned played occasionally with the Grateful Dead and focused his life on
music and art, especially photography. I went to MIT to major in economics
and went into journalism, starting with a focus on business, finance and
economics. I spent 30 years with The New York Times. Kathy went on to earn a
PhD at Yale and for decades was a professor at Boston University’s School of
Management. She is co-author of a recently published book: “Retiring:
Creating a Life That Works for You.” Editor’s Note - Here are the
Wheatley/MIT alumni of whom the Newsletter staff is aware (additions
welcome): Last Name Current Last Name First
Name Year Corwin. John 1964 Lagin Ned 1966 Wattel Arenson Karen 1966 Kram Kathy 1968 Fidelman Miles 1971 Rothman Greg 1971 Glickman Todd 1973 Hack Katz Jan 1975 Smith Douglas 1977 Valicenti Richard 1977 Chin David 1979 Fiorino Anthony 1985 Ueno Kohta 1988 Yang Chen 2000 Jia Xiaoman 2002 1967 - Mitch Stephens - Culture
Critic/Journalist Mitch wrote the following
essay for the blog he writes with a bunch of friends: WritingAboutOurGeneration.com. (Contact Mitch if you have an article idea.) Bob Dylan A-Changin’
Written by Mitchell Stephens Earlier installments in our series on the Roots of the Hippie
Idea:
Click for the introduction to this series: “The Roots
of the Hippie Idea.” Click for “Whitman and Thoreau and the Hippies.” Click for the Beatniks and the Hippies Click for Modernism and the Hippies We were born into
this—this notion that to be an artist was perpetually to be rethinking what
an artist should be, a notion very much at the heart of James Mangold’s Bob
Dylan biopic, A Complete Unknown. I don’t think Mozart saw
himself as involved in continually reinventing music. Rembrandt was
struggling to portray what he saw, not struggling to reconceptualize what
painting might be. But the rules of painting
had changed dramatically in Paris in the second half of the 19th century as
Claude Monet, Edgar Degas and Camille Pissarro began painting en plein
air; painting fast, with a palette of bright, sunlit colors; and
painting ordinary people—not Napoleon on his horse. A theory—a wonderfully
invigorating theory—had been placed before Napoleon’s horse. And, of course,
impressionism was arriving at the same time as politics and
economics were also gaining a couple of even more ambitious isms. Impressionism lost its
excitement for artists (though not for their audiences) in the 20th century.
But what did last for most of that new century was this notion that to be an
artist was to rethink the rules of art itself. So, we had Fauvism, Cubism, Futurism,
Dada, Surrealism, Abstract Expressionism, Pop Art, Minimalism and
Postmodernism. Jazz went through, among
other fashions, big band, swing and bebop. Even philosophy underwent
periodic reconceptualization in the 20th century: phenomenology,
existentialism, analytic philosophy, ordinary language, logical positivism,
structuralism, poststructuralism and deconstruction.
It was all
acutely self-conscious, somewhat precious, inescapably meta and kinda fun—you
did not just get to paint or play jazz or do philosophy; you got to theorize
about what these endeavors should be. Cool. Which brings us to Bob
Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival on the evening of July 25, 1965. Dylan’s
decision to infuriate the sainted Pete Seeger by bringing a full electric
band onto the folk festival stage with him was, as a bunch of 20th-century
philosophic schools might put it, “overdetermined.”
And what exactly was the
nature of Dylan’s rebellion at Newport in 1965? As shown in Mangold’s movie,
which is quite good at setting the scene, if not at exploring the ideas
bubbling up in that scene, Dylan went on stage with a drummer, an electric
bass player and a couple of electric guitars. The previous summer Dylan
had notably turned all four Beatles on to marijuana while they were visiting
New York. And in the summer of 1964 at Newport, Dylan had sung perhaps the
most powerful ode to hallucinogenic drugs ever written: Mr.
Tambourine Man:
Remarkably, no one
complained about the drug stuff. But drums and electric instruments! Heaven
forfend! Bob Dylan would soon
reveal himself to be something of a leavin’-it-all-behind addict. And
perpetually moving on to the next thing without looking back actually kind of
worked in lightly anchored, newness-prizing art forms like 20th century
painting and second-half-of-the-20th-century rock ‘n’ roll.
Picasso had had
his Blue Period, then his Rose Period, before helping launch Cubism.
Dylan—never one to be out-morphed—followed the masterful rock ‘n’ roll
albums, Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde on Blonde,
by stripping away the electric guitars and flights of beatnik poesy for John Wesley
Harding in December 1967, then making a country album, Nashville
Skyline, in the spring of 1969.
And we all—our
generation, even the Beatles themselves—were taking lessons from the
peripatetic Mr. Dylan on the great power of genre, of style, of reinvention.
For Dylan never took genres lightly. For him it was always whole hog—until it
was nothing, and he had moved on. Which made Dylan—though
perhaps the most interesting character in rock ‘n’ roll—an odd choice as a
role model. Following him into something was okay, but it always necessitated
following him out of the something we had previously followed him into. Maybe we could handle
that: Country music, sure! Far out! But then it reached the point where we
could no longer handle it. For in 1979, Bob Dylan
reappeared in the one guise that was probably the most difficult for most
members of his previously loyal audience to abide: as a born-again Christian,
baptized in Pat Boone’s pool. (Though the first Christian record, Slow Train
Coming, released in the summer of 1979, was actually pretty
good.)
So what was the
lesson of all these modernist shifts, often into pre-modern roles; shifts we
first noticed at Newport in 1965? What was Dylan teaching—what had Picasso
and, maybe, Jean-Luc Godard who had gone before, and those, like John Lennon,
who followed, been teaching? It sure seemed like these restless souls were
saying: Keep a-changin’. Don’t look back. Be true to your feelings in the
moment.
However, we were
not—most of us—brave enough for that, for picking up and leaving it all
behind. We were not—most of us—even true artists. We were, instead, wise
enough to stop practicing guitar-fingerings in mom and dad’s basement and,
eventually apply to law school. Shape-shifting did not work all that well
with spouses and kids and careers. Nonetheless, our inner
Bob Dylans were never entirely abandoned. You could honor them with your
broad and shifting tastes in music, with the odd books you read, the
art-house films you caught, the dope you smoked on weekends. There remained a little
hippie, a little artist, a little a-changing, a little Bob Dylan, in us all. Mitchell Stephens, one of
the editors of this site, is a professor emeritus of Journalism at New York
University, and is the author or co-author of nine books, including the rise of the image the fall of the word, A History of News, Imagine There’s No Heaven: How Atheism Helped Create
the Modern World, Beyond News: The Future of Journalism, and The Voice of America: Lowell Thomas and the Invention
of 20th Century Journalism. He lives in New York and spends a lot
of time traveling and fiddling with video. Mitch's Essay about Bob Dylan, etc. mitchell stephens professor emeritus journalism, nyu 1984 - 40th-Year Reunion
Jeff Schneider (1984)
Writes - “Happy Holidays and
Happy New Year! In 2024, I attended the 40th-year reunion of my class (photo
above), and the flood of memories and amazement in everyone's accomplishments
was a wonderful feeling. I saw people with whom I played ‘Eagles versus Condors’
on the North Side Elementary School playground, and I remembered running
outside behind the Willets Road School and, also, playing intense street
hockey at Wheatley, to name a few memories.” 1984 - Elizabeth Pries - Deceased Catherine Pries Voisinet (1987)
Writes - Dear Art, I am Beth
Pries' sister, Catherine (Pries) Voisinet ('87 alum, cmvoisinet@yahoo.com, currently living in
Virginia). I am writing to let you
know that Beth passed away in March, 2024 of breast cancer. She was 57. I'm
sorry for the TMI but here goes... Beth was working for
Verizon (ATT) downtown when the towers fell on 9/11. She was required to work
in order to get the communication hub below the towers back up and running.
This means that, for months, she was walking from 14th Street down to Pearl
Street and back, breathing in all of the toxic junk in the air. The subways
were not running. She was diagnosed in 2017
with triple negative breast cancer and was effectively treated. Her cancer
was 9/11 certified. In 2018 she "cleared". However, in 2019, I
received a call from her from the emergency room. She had just been diagnosed
with more than 25 tumors in her brain. She was given 1 to 4 months to live.
However, over the next 5 years, after embracing her self-coined title
‘Warrior goddess,’ she dominated her treatment. She renovated her home on a
lake in New Jersey and continued to snow board, motorcycle, mountain bike,
and do all of the things she enjoyed, all while receiving weekly treatment
until about 1 month before she passed. If you know anything
about my sister, she was an amazingly strong woman. I'm not talking New York
Strong. I'm talking stronger. Mere mortals would crumble. Although we were close as
kids, our paths separated, and it was only after her diagnosis in 2019 that
we fully reconnected. Right after her diagnosis in 2019, she threw a
Celebration of Life party. There were over 250 people in attendance, from all
phases of her life... from childhood, high school, college, career, hobbies,
... It was only after she
passed that I learned the extent to which she touched peoples' lives. (recall
there are 8 Pries kids). Every party truly started
when Beth arrived. She had a special way of engaging people to join in the
fun and see the bright side of life. She would encourage people to join
games, sing, dance, engage. She always wanted to be
at the party. Three days before she passed, we had a second Celebration of
Life party. Over 100 people were there in her home. The bar was set up on the
back porch, the DJ played her favorite music, and, again, people from all walks
of her life joined to share stories with her. Although she could not talk,
she gestured, smiled, and clapped. It was a true celebration for an amazing
woman. I hope to have that
courage and fearless attitude someday. Happy New Year! Kind regards, Cathy Voisinet Fan Mail
1959 (Bob Martin) - “Thanks for the Newsletter.” 1964 (Barbara Rosenbaum Carey) - “Thanks for all you do in keeping us apprised of
Wheatley alums, faculty and all the wonderful things they do.“ 1965 (Jeffrey Orling) - “Thank you, Arthur, for another incredible read and
time journey. You're a saint. Best, Jeffrey” 1965 (Richard Michael Roman) - “Thank you for keeping up the great work that you do for
all of us. Michael” 1967 (Susan Miller Astor) - “Thanks for all the work you do to keep Wheatleyites
informed and connected.” 1970 (Mitch Shapiro) - “Art & Keith……congratulations on another year of
great Newsletters filled with thoughts and memories from a variety of alums!
Happy New Year!” 1974 (Susan Resnik Zelman) - “Thank you for all you do.” 1976 (Marjorie Glantz) - “Thanks for all you do.” 1981 (Emily Haft Bloom) - “Thanks, and I appreciate all your diligence and
commitment to keeping us up to date on Wheatley goings on!” 1984 (Jeff Schneider) “Thank you for the Alumni Newsletter.” 1987 (Cathy Pries Voisinet) - “Thank you for all you do for Wheatley. Happy New
Year!” 1988 (Ariel Kalish Glassman) - “Thanks for continuing to make the effort to keep the
Wheatley community tight.” Brought to You By……
L-R - Keith
Aufhauser (1963), Art Engoron 1967 The Official Notices
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Newsletter # 185. The Usual Words of
Wisdom
Thanks to our fabulous
Webmaster, Keith Aufhauser (Class of 1963), you can regale
yourself with the first 186 Wheatley School Alumni Association Newsletters
(and much other Wheatley data and arcana) at The Wheatley School Alumni Association Website Also thanks to Keith is
our search engine, prominently displayed on our home page: type in a word or
phrase and, wow!, you’ll find every place it exists in all previous
Newsletters and other on-site material. I edit all submissions,
even material in quotes, for clarity and concision, without any indication
thereof. I cannot and do not vouch for the accuracy of what people tell me,
as TWSAA does not have a fact-checking department. We welcome any and all
text and photos relevant to The Wheatley School, 11 Bacon Road, Old Westbury,
NY 11568, and the people who administered, taught, worked, and/or studied
there. Art Engoron, Class of 1967 Closing
That’s it for The Wheatley School
Alumni Association Newsletter # 187. Please send me your autobiography before
someone else sends me your obituary. Art
|
Arthur Fredericks Engoron, Class of 1967