Click here for the introduction to the Round and Square series "Academic Autobiography"
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| [a] Harvest RF |
III—Cultivating Talent and Texts
One of John King Fairbank’s students, Fox Butterfield,
wrote that Fairbank worked hard to attract bright undergraduates, and to steer
them into China studies—often with encouraging comments on papers and patience
with their grand designs (to study, for example, “Warfare in Asia and
Europe”). By the time they were lured to
graduate studies, however, Fairbank could be a severe taskmaster, committed to
creating excellence, even if comments hurt.
His friend and colleague, Richard Smith of Rice University, notes in his
contribution to Fairbank Remembered—a volume of affectionate reminiscences—that Fairbank’s caustic advice to
“think more and write less” was direct and useful, if somewhat painful to
read. In the afterword to Fairbank’s
posthumous biography of H.B. Morse, Fairbank’s mentor in China studies in the
1920s and 1930s, Richard Smith notes that “Morse trained a single soldier;
Fairbank built an entire army.”
In the spirit of these posts, I might say that Morse built a family farm; Fairbank built (an) agribusiness.
Fairbank writes especially fondly of Theodore White, the journalist whose own memoir, In Search of History, had a large impact on Fairbank and (this is my conjecture) helped spur him to write his own. Noting that “my most exciting student [was] my first,” he describes White’s superb intellectual gifts and plucky personality with an affection that goes beyond the personal. Indeed, I would argue that White is the very picture of the kind of person Fairbank sought to create with his teaching. Fairbank had little patience for mere aesthetes, even in China studies, and White’s combination of brilliance, perseverance, and right-in-the-world drive was precisely what Fairbank wanted for a new generation of Americans informed about China and U.S. policy towards it.
Teddy White could have succeeded at anything…but he was cut out to be
a journalist. Like a Chinese statesman, he turned weakness into strength—
his short stature put him readily in a filial status to the great captains he
interviewed. Talking to Teddy, Douglas MacArthur waxed more than
usually philosophical. They were kindred spirits. Teddy had his own supply
of grandiloquence.[1]
In the spirit of these posts, I might say that Morse built a family farm; Fairbank built (an) agribusiness.
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| [b] Herd RF |
Fairbank writes especially fondly of Theodore White, the journalist whose own memoir, In Search of History, had a large impact on Fairbank and (this is my conjecture) helped spur him to write his own. Noting that “my most exciting student [was] my first,” he describes White’s superb intellectual gifts and plucky personality with an affection that goes beyond the personal. Indeed, I would argue that White is the very picture of the kind of person Fairbank sought to create with his teaching. Fairbank had little patience for mere aesthetes, even in China studies, and White’s combination of brilliance, perseverance, and right-in-the-world drive was precisely what Fairbank wanted for a new generation of Americans informed about China and U.S. policy towards it.
Teddy White could have succeeded at anything…but he was cut out to be
a journalist. Like a Chinese statesman, he turned weakness into strength—
his short stature put him readily in a filial status to the great captains he
interviewed. Talking to Teddy, Douglas MacArthur waxed more than
usually philosophical. They were kindred spirits. Teddy had his own supply
of grandiloquence.[1]
It is oddly telling that Fairbank follows his several
page treatment of Theodore White with another few pages on his little house on
Winthrop Street in Cambridge, using language that is equally warm. He begins by writing that “Bright students
enhance the life of a teacher. Another
influence on me and Wilma was the yellow frame house at 41 Winthrop Street…It
has definitely shaped our lives. We
contributed some Chinese furniture and statuary. But the house has had more influence on us
than we on it.” He describes the house
and its imperfections in loving detail, but, in characteristic Fairbankean
fashion, he builds toward a more important point. His mind is never far from building the
field, even when he describes architecture, banging radiators, leaking
ceilings, and termites.
One quickly sees the manner in which the house was connected, for him, to both his work and his building of China studies. He was close to Harvard-Yenching, his office in the history department, and to Widener Library. Better yet, he had a ready-made opportunity not only to attract students but to marry them off as well. His seriousness of purpose when it comes to his work, as well as the obvious pride he took in the friendly and even amorous connections between his students, echoes the attentions several centuries ago of a benevolent head of household on a farming estate in China.
However, 41 Winthrop Street was only two hundred yards from Widener Library,
across two arteries, Mt. Auburn Street and Massachusetts Avenue. I could be
in my study in four minutes, after dinner, at 8 a.m., any time. In forty odd years
I saved commuting time equal to perhaps half a year of eight-hour days. This
proximity to the Yard and the Houses made it accessible to students. We
began having an open-house tea at five on Thursdays. Omitting five years
away in wartime and two on sabbatical, our Thursday teas continued for thirty-
three years.
They were a multi-purpose institution. Foreign students practiced their
English, girls met boys, visiting dignitaries were entertained, though
they sometimes wondered in just what way they were being honored
by this miscellany of cackling students. Cousins from Sioux Falls could not
feel neglected. But primarily these teas helped to make my students into a
community of friends Some friendships indeed became marriages. Arthur
Wright met Mary Claybaugh there. My classmate Bill Youngman met our
onetime Peking housemate Elise Perkins. My colleague Myron Gilmore
met Sheila Dehn. Teddy White stayed in the house almost alone on his
first leave back from China in the summer of 1940. He says he learned
a lot he wanted to know. Come the sexual revolution young couples have
house-sat for us on weekends we were away. The house is completely
adaptable.[1]
Fairbank’s interest in talent went far beyond the students he trained. He was a prolific and very generous collaborator who put together half a dozen collections with colleagues before he published his own book. He took a deep interest in the work of his fellow China scholars, as well. Indeed, that interest could border on obsessive careerism. He is not above making such comments at his own expense in Chinabound (the title has a little bit of the joke in it). In fact, he notes that when working on U.S.-China policy in the State Department “I found I was less a specialist on China than on the career of John King Fairbank, and believe it or not the two were not identical.”
Click here for the other posts in this Round and Square series on John King Fairbank's autobiography:
Notes
One quickly sees the manner in which the house was connected, for him, to both his work and his building of China studies. He was close to Harvard-Yenching, his office in the history department, and to Widener Library. Better yet, he had a ready-made opportunity not only to attract students but to marry them off as well. His seriousness of purpose when it comes to his work, as well as the obvious pride he took in the friendly and even amorous connections between his students, echoes the attentions several centuries ago of a benevolent head of household on a farming estate in China.
However, 41 Winthrop Street was only two hundred yards from Widener Library,
across two arteries, Mt. Auburn Street and Massachusetts Avenue. I could be
in my study in four minutes, after dinner, at 8 a.m., any time. In forty odd years
I saved commuting time equal to perhaps half a year of eight-hour days. This
proximity to the Yard and the Houses made it accessible to students. We
began having an open-house tea at five on Thursdays. Omitting five years
away in wartime and two on sabbatical, our Thursday teas continued for thirty-
three years.
They were a multi-purpose institution. Foreign students practiced their
English, girls met boys, visiting dignitaries were entertained, though
they sometimes wondered in just what way they were being honored
by this miscellany of cackling students. Cousins from Sioux Falls could not
feel neglected. But primarily these teas helped to make my students into a
community of friends Some friendships indeed became marriages. Arthur
Wright met Mary Claybaugh there. My classmate Bill Youngman met our
onetime Peking housemate Elise Perkins. My colleague Myron Gilmore
met Sheila Dehn. Teddy White stayed in the house almost alone on his
first leave back from China in the summer of 1940. He says he learned
a lot he wanted to know. Come the sexual revolution young couples have
house-sat for us on weekends we were away. The house is completely
adaptable.[1]
Fairbank’s interest in talent went far beyond the students he trained. He was a prolific and very generous collaborator who put together half a dozen collections with colleagues before he published his own book. He took a deep interest in the work of his fellow China scholars, as well. Indeed, that interest could border on obsessive careerism. He is not above making such comments at his own expense in Chinabound (the title has a little bit of the joke in it). In fact, he notes that when working on U.S.-China policy in the State Department “I found I was less a specialist on China than on the career of John King Fairbank, and believe it or not the two were not identical.”
Click here for the other posts in this Round and Square series on John King Fairbank's autobiography:
 |
| [d] Career RF |
[1] John King Fairbank, Chinabound (New York: Harper Collins, 1983), 127.
[2] Chinabound, 213-214.
[2] Chinabound, 213-214.
Bibliography
Fairbank, John King. Chinabound. New York: Harper Collins, 1983.
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