THERE IS NOTHING QUITE SO EXCITING AS A FIRST TRIP abroad. Ed Hogenauer, senior assistant leader, was standing with part of the group as near to the bow of the S.S. General von Steuben as they could get in third class. The ship had passed out of New York harbor, had dropped the pilot, and, picking up full speed, was nosing eastward into the gathering darkness, headed for the vast and trackless Atlantic. Ed expressed the feelings of the others by wondering how the Captain would ever bring them to the French Port of Boulogne on the English Channel. In the enveloping darkness and with the strong, fresh breeze in their faces, there was just enough suggestion of danger to raise their excitement still further. With a few exceptions, the boys were meeting one another for the first time, and subconsciously each was aware of his need to make a good impression on the others. Embarking on an idealistic venture at an age when idealism is at its height, it would have been difficult to improve on the start that The First Experiment was making.
Ed Hogenauer had been a campus leader when he graduated from Haverford College with Honors in 1930, and had spent the following two years learning about Europe and acquiring a command of both French and German. Ted Hartshorne, somewhat younger, lived in Haverford, Pennsylvania, but was a student at Harvard. He also had spent time in Europe to advantage.
The next morning and the following seven days, the group, divided in two with Ed and Ted as discussion leaders, found sunny spots on the deck, protected from the wind so that all could hear.
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Each day there was an hour's language lesson in either French or German, as well as an hour's discussion on how to get the most out of the summer. The reality of the subjects they were talking about inspired them. The members, expressing their expectations and asking questions, got acquainted rapidly. They carefully recorded the conclusions of the discussions.
In directions for the leaders which I had written, I find a section called, "Notes on Discussion for an Experiment in International Living."
The educational value of discussion for any individual seems to be largely determined by the reality of the problem for that individual. It is, therefore, wise to allow discussion to grow out of the situation in which the group finds itself.
The first matter for discussion seems, naturally, to be the organization of the party, and the questions under this head are:
What are the duties or functions which it will be necessary for one member to perform for the rest?
How can a group where the members do not know one another best select persons to do this work?
There followed a list of suggestions for the kinds of jobs which one member would do for the others, such as baggage master, discussion reporter, librarian, first aid man, banker, and bicycle repairer.
Developing group spirit was the direct result of finding common goals. The next step was giving each member responsibility for the whole. The solidarity of the group grew as each member found a way to serve it, and especially when he realized that he would be given responsibility for the group's management as fast as he could take it.
The second general area of discussion seems to center around the idea of the objectives of the trip. What is the purpose of our going to Europe? This question seems to have a number of aspects. If our purpose is actually to make friends with boys from other countries and not just to talk about good will in the abstract, what must we know about the conditions we will find in Europe? How will our camp differ from a camp in America?
All of these questions corresponded so closely to what the boys themselves had been thinking that there was little shyness, and even the youngest and quietest took part.
The subject of "if we wish to make friends, what do we have to know and what do we have to do?" created curiosity. The sailors and the waiters of the German ship, as well as interested German passengers, provided a foretaste of the country, along with the music, food and customs. (Profiting by this experience, we later sent the groups on the ships of those countries to which they were going, increasing the immersion in that country by over two weeks.)
In the course of the discussions, it was found that in addition to "what we have to know and what we have to do," there was the important matter of what kinds of attitudes we should have in approaching our families. So in the language lessons, the first things to be learned were polite expressions, and along with these went the hint that Europeans make much more use of them than we are accustomed to do.
During the orientation meetings, it became clear that the pressure of public opinion within the small group had a strong influence. Those who at first may have had a point of view different from that which the group formulated seldom resisted the social pressure for long; that is, group discussion as a means for developing attitudes, though unrecognized, was used. They talked about receptivity, humility and the importance of reserving judgment. All agreed that the attitude with which each member approached his experiences was most important.
Living six in a tiny cabin and confined to the small decks of third class, there was little chance for the boys to work off their natural energies. For nearly an hour each day, therefore, they played three-deep-tag, which was well suited to their needs and to the space on the deck. Evening was the time for singing, and here again the crew joined in, because the boys were learning German folk songs. Singing was definitely a good way of building group solidarity.
I was aboard the tender that met the ship at Boulogne, and soon the wide-eyed boys expressed their delight to feel the soil of France under their feet. We stayed in Paris for three days, living in a smaller and simpler hotel than they had ever seen. French Boy Scouts (éclaireurs) accompanied us everywhere we went, and although communication was difficult, they made themselves useful, and the Americans liked them.
On the second day of our sight-seeing, after trotting about in the heat for a number of hours, we came to the park at St. Germaine-en-Laye, where a row of inviting chairs were arranged under a tree. Quite naturally, some of the boys sat down. A large and muscular woman accosted them and asked for her rent for using the chairs. The boys did not understand and simply looked at her with astonishment. She did not understand that they did not understand, and believing them to be acting impudently, started to scream. By this time, those to whom she was speaking were quite terrified. Fortunately, Ed Hogenauer, whose French was good, came to the rescue and paid the debt. The disadvantage of not being able to communicate was clear to everyone.
When the sleek Swiss train from Geneva glided into Neuchâtel on June 13, the excitement of having arrived at their destination brought the members with their baggage to the door of the train. I managed to be among the first to get off and was looking for Captain Bach, but he was not to be seen. Finally, a young man came to say that Captain Bach had sent him to meet us. Feeling somewhat let down, we boosted each other into the back of the open truck he had sent.
The truck began its steep climb out of the town and upward into the surrounding hills, but before we reached Valangin a heavy shower burst from the sky without warning, and we arrived at La Bordarderie, the farmhouse where we were to live, wet to the skin. Madame Bach, whom we soon came to admire greatly, welcomed the boys warmly. Still Le Captain did not appear! Nor was there any sign of the European boys whom we had expected to be there, except for one French boy.
The next morning we met for prayers in an outdoor chapel simply furnished with wooden benches. Captain Bach was now much in evidence, and gave an impressive welcome address and then a prayer. The air was brisk and invigorating in this Jura Mountain village when we loped down the steep grade to the railway station, three kilometers away, to get our bikes. For each boy there was a fine new first quality Swiss bike, and the thrill for the Americans was tremendous. They had never seen such bikes before, with inner tubes and three-speed gears. This enthusiasm did not slacken all summer long! The delight in their bikes meant that the boys spent every minute that they could upon them.
At first, the daily routine was much like that of any American camp. After breakfast and prayers, we did chores, washing dishes and cleaning rooms, which were especially furnished for us, and were unusually comfortable camping quarters. When their vacations started, the French and German boys gradually straggled in. In accordance with the plan, each American ate, slept and studied in the same room with a European boy who spoke the language he wished to learn. After KP (washing dishes) came field sports, and it was planned that the Europeans and Americans would teach one another their games. We were equipped for baseball, volley ball and soccer. On the very first afternoon, in small groups, forays on their bikes were made into the surrounding beautiful countryside. Although I did not know it until later, they would bike high up into the mountains behind the camp and then race down again, with a terrifying abandon. The many hairpin curves of the zig-zag mountain road provided a series of thrills. Only one of the boys broke his collarbone.
There were some American habits which had to be abandoned. One morning after prayers, Captain Bach with a very sober face approached me imposingly. "There is a thief in this camp," he said. Then he went on to explain that for several days the cooks had been aware that food was disappearing from the refrigerator during the night. So they decided to watch for the "thief," and soon a tan young American was caught helping himself. I did my best to explain the difference between a thief and a hungry boy who had been allowed at home to "raid the refrigerator" whenever he wanted something to eat. The Captain was only slightly pacified and rather reluctantly gave up the idea that they had caught a "thief." We explained to all of the boys that this raiding couldn't be done.
Language study came at the end of the morning: lessons in English for the Europeans, and French or German for the Americans. Soon everyone claimed that he learned more by simply living, cycling and working together, so the classes were abandoned.
Under the influence of the League of Nations Summer Schools of the previous year, I had drawn up a program of discussions on international politics and peace, but these proved to be impossible to conduct because we did not know enough of each other's languages to carry on a political discussion at that level. Moreover, the very genuine task of learning to live with other people made discussions of peace seem unrealistic. Political discussions were outside the realm of action of our group, and the boys realized it.
The original plans for trips into the mountains were, by contrast, carried out completely. We started with a short one lasting three days, then seven days of strenuous cycling in the high mountains, followed by three days in Geneva with the British League of Nations School. On the seven-day trip, a group of the older boys cycled over the passes of the highest roads in the country. On the way up, we were pushing our bikes most of the time, sweating in the hot sun, but remembering that we would soon be whizzing down the other side.
While this was going on, another group climbed the Matterhorn. They had professional guides, and with the cables attached to the rocks, they found the long climb more exhausting than difficult.
When the time came for the five-day mountain trip, Jones, the camp's Swiss-born English sports' director, took a mixed group of Europeans and Americans, and I took the other half of the camp. He started at Kandersteg and hiked to Lauterbrunnen, while my group reversed the route. We were well equipped with mountain boots, rucksacks, and sleeping bags. We went to Interlaken by train. From there the railway started to climb the Alps, and at Lauterbrunnen we left ,the highways and railways behind, and plunged into the mountains. Putting into practice what Jones had taught us about mountain walking, we aimed at an unbroken rhythm of short steps---the steeper the slope, the shorter the step.
Our track lay over the Blümlisalp, which was well selected because there was snow on the two highest passes, but it was not dangerous even for beginners.
It was not only the beauty of the mountains but the contact with the mountain people that was refreshingly different. The opportunity to talk with farmers' families, struggling to communicate in an unknown language and laughing over the antics that we went through, made pleasant breaks in the hour-long climbs. The farmers were pleased to sell their milk and cheese and the boys were delighted to have this contact with them.
The first night we slept in the huts of the sheep herders so that although we were sleeping on straw we enjoyed the feeling of their hospitality. However, our sleep was not very sound with the animal moving about restlessly during the night beneath our hayloft. The strenuous days and the uncomfortable nights brought about a comradely feeling between the boys of the different countries that the life at La Borcarderie had not provided. Committed as I was to make hiking and mountain climbing an important part of an Experiment summer, I took special care to notice what the effects on the boys had been.
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Jones and I were determined not to make the mistake of beginners and attempt too much, so in the middle of our climb, we spent one lazy day beside a turquoise Alpine lake, Oeschenensee.
Returning to Valangin, there were only a few days left before the end of the camp. The French, Belgian, German, Swiss and American boys fully enjoyed being with one another. Of course, some of these associations were friendlier than others. Now discussions became important for the American group. We talked about the extent to which we had realized the ambitions with which we had come, as well as how the program could be improved. The First Experiment was genuinely an experiment in international living, which demonstrated that eight features of the original plan were impractical. We made the necessary important changes.
The group reported that the daily program worked out very differently from the American camp routine from which it was copied. It was planned that the American and European boys would teach one another their sports. But as soon as cycling through the beautiful Swiss countryside was started, the sports program quickly languished, and the group recommended that field sports be abandoned.
Under the inspiration of the previous year at Geneva, I had worked out a discussion agenda on peace and international relations. It was immediately apparent that our language ability was not equal to a discussion on such a high level. Political discussion was dropped immediately. This change was important because through it the last vestiges of academic activities were eliminated.
The hope that the boys in couples would teach one another to speak their respective languages was based on my inexperience in language learning. Even when supported by regular classes, our methods were inadequate. We made little progress in speaking. Neither the Europeans nor the Americans knew enough of the others' languages for easy communication. The inevitable happened: the boys, of necessity, spoke the language they knew and not the language I had hoped they would learn. At first, they had made a genuine effort to speak, but within a week, there were language cliques. The members of the cliques noticed differences between themselves and the others. The differences developed into irritations which were a definite hindrance to the camaraderie I had hoped for. Actually, the mutual irritation was not serious, but I realized that having people live together without being able to speak to one another must not become one of the permanent features. I had created a situation for producing misunderstanding. The boys were disappointed when I said that the summer had not been a success, since they all felt they had had a wonderful time. "Horrie" Coleman was particularly incensed over my criticism. It arose from the fact that I was looking for an ideal plan, while from his point of view everything had been fine. When writing this chapter I asked him for his opinion. He wrote:
In judging whether The First Experiment was a success or a failure I think we must consider what the boys got out of their visit to France, to Switzerland and to Germany. I have a deep, lasting and reasonably accurate impression of and feeling for these people and the countries I visited and in addition to that I had a good time, so for me The First Experiment was a resounding success and helpful to me for the rest of my life.
I have very vivid impressions of the personality, stamina, etc. of certain of the European boys. I used to race bicycles, hike and eat with them, and sure, we could only get along in pidgeon something or other and sign language but we got along all right, and when I parted with one of the German boys, I exchanged gifts with him and we had a very warm feeling of comradeship, especially on the Kandersteg-Murren hike, where we were constantly together.
During succeeding years, with the elimination of the camp, each person lived in a separate home. The three languages were reduced to one---in theory, at least. Visitors were to speak the language of their hosts. In reality, one language was an ideal for the visitors to work toward.
The total time that the young visitors and hosts lived together was extended to two months in The Second Experiment; the first month in a home, the second traveling in the host country. There was no doubt that the visitors and visited should spend as much time as possible together.
Girls were included in the second year. No one foresaw that there would always be a substantial majority of the fair sex in the United States groups. Although there was some opposition to the idea of including girls, I felt strongly that the human experience that I wanted The Experiment to become could never be genuine in a one sex program.
By far the most important result of the experimental year was the abandoning of the camp idea and replacing it with the Homestay. (At the time we had no conception of the importance of this change but now any program is not "The Experiment" without it.) Allen Stokes, the member of The First Experiment who has continued active in Experiment affairs, makes its importance clear. He says that he never wrote a letter to any of the Europeans involved in the camp and does not remember the name of a single one. He points out that in high contrast to the camp situation, living in foreign homes and having people from abroad live with him has earned him lasting friendships in all continents.
I believe that the use of the Homestay came about as a result of a conversation with Madame Bach. At any rate, when the group left Valangin they were invited by Anton Fendrich to live for a day in the homes of members of the Knights of Peace in Freiburg. It did not take long to explain our plan to him: in the future, we would stay all summer in one country, instead of visiting three, exchanging a month's hospitality in a family for a camping trip with one of its members. He assured us that the families would be found. This led directly to month-long Homestays there the following year.
Finally the last day of camp came. We bade good-bye to the Europeans with strong feelings of regret, as they scattered to their homes. Last of all, we said good-bye to Madame Bach and the ladies of the staff. (Captain Bach was absent.)
The next ten days, again divided into two groups, we spent in Germany. After the toughening trips in the Alps, we were well prepared for many days of hiking. The First Experiment boys kept far away from tourist hotels, museums, and night clubs. Using trains only to move from one beauty spot to another, our travels were on foot and by Faltboote (folding boats). German university students acted as our guides.
The idyllic countryside of South Germany had a charm which everyone felt. The well-kept old villages with their weathered, half-timbered houses made us feel that we were reliving history. After a couple of days of walking, two lazy days floating down the Main River followed. Vineyards clad the hills along the river, and occasionally there was the crumbling ruin of a castle on a hilltop to be explored. The boys decided that for learning to know a country well, cycling was excellent, but agreed that walking and paddling Faltboote were better.
My enthusiasm for out-of-door Europe was handed on to the group. Of the sixty-seven days which we spent in Europe, we were traveling under our own power for more than half of them. In addition to twenty-two days of planned hikes, the cycling out of camp was an almost daily affair. Days in trains and buses were no part of our lives.
Nothing else that summer gave me so much satisfaction as introducing the group to this life. The breath-taking beauty of a mountain peak with range after range as far as the eye could see, the exhilaration of the cold and crystal air, the long and fatiguing stints, the uncomfortable nights produced what was best of all, a closeness to one another. Hiking and mountain climbing remained principal features of The Experiment until after the Second World War.
On the way to the port of Bremerhaven, the group took a Rhine river steamer. Although I had not mentioned learning to "drink in moderation" to the boys, there was only one way to explain these vine-clad hills. They all had a drink of a fine Rhine wine. I also explained that in general, Europeans drank mild drinks, wine and beer, and not the hard liquors of America.
On Sunday, September 4, Leslie and I waved good-bye to The First Experiment group and their two leaders as the S.S. Columbus pulled away from her dock in Bremerhaven. Browned by the sun and in excellent condition, they were well pleased and certainly ready for another year of study. Staying behind, our purpose was to find organizations which would represent us in a "Second Experiment in International Living," as it was to be called. It was our intention to send one group to France and another to Germany in the summer of 1933.
We went to Berlin to visit the Pädegogische Auslandsstelle (Foreign Travel Bureau for Schools). Germany was the only country at that time which had a travel bureau in its National Education Department. We were sent to a small town east of Berlin called Fürstenwalde, where the local school travel association assured us that there would be homes for as many boys and girls as we cared to send there the following July.
From Berlin we went to Paris and found Jean and Eveline Vergnes in the newly established hostel of the Chevaliers de la Paix. He agreed to represent us in France for the summer of 1933. Then we returned home.
IT WAS A FRIGID JANUARY DAY WHEN I LEFT MY FAMILY IN our Syracuse home and set out on a three-months trip to visit independent schools. I put my moving-picture projector into my air-cooled Franklin car, together with the reels which I had taken the summer before, showing the members of The First Experiment swarming over the mountains of Switzerland, and the villages and rivers of Germany. I was on my way over the wintry roads to Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Mrs. Hilbert Day was one of the few people who, on reading the little yellow pamphlet which announced The First Experiment the previous year, had decided that it was something that she wanted for her children. Her son Dick became a star member of the first year's group and is now the headmaster of Phillips Exeter Academy in Exeter, New Hampshire. I knew that when I arrived in Cambridge a handpicked group of parents and children would be assembled in the Days' large living room.
Mrs. Day opened the meeting with an enthusiastic story of Dick's experiences of the previous summer. Then the films showed exactly what we had done.
The groups that gathered in the independent schools across the eastern part of the country were of fairly good size, but although the film was attractive, I was far from an inspiring speaker. Worst of all, however, the young people were not capable of convincing their parents that The Experiment summer was something they should have. Had it not been for the immediate enthusiasm of three first-rate headmasters who convinced parents that The Experiment was something of value, there is grave doubt as to whether The Experiment would have survived. The headmasters were Perry Dunlap Smith of the North Shore Country Day School in Winnetka, Illinois, Ralph Boothby of the Metaire Park Country Day School in New Orleans, and Hans Froelicher of the Park School of Baltimore. It took several years before the reputation of the new idea was able to get a favorable hearing except in a few cities.
During those early years, I became painfully aware of the difference between American boys and girls. When I spoke at a girls' school, I was confronted by row after row of alert and interested faces. In response to any attempted pleasantry, there would be an appreciative giggle, if not outright laughter. This gave me great courage, so that the next sally turned out brighter than the previous one.
With the boys, it was quite different! Their deadpan expressions seemed to carry the challenge: "Interest me if you can!" This meant that the first attempted pleasantry was not brought off with much confidence, so that there was no change in the expressions of my masculine auditors. Immediately I became more reticent---and what I had to say less convincing. It was not until The Experiment was an acknowledged success that I could produce a light and cheerful atmosphere to overcome the resistance in a group of listening young men.
Regardless of my excellent preparation for certain aspects of my job, it was obvious that in the case of salesmanship, I had had no training whatsoever. The poor little rich boy had never sold Fuller Brushes and had not developed the hard shell that every salesman needs. When doors were shut in my face, I was personally wounded, even though I realized that I had no cause to complain. I had designed a summer project which was completely different from traditional travel and education abroad and knew that I would have a hard time convincing many people that what I was proposing was education. But I was a poor salesman.
The winter schedule was a tight one. Chicago followed Rochester, Buffalo, and Cleveland; then on to Indianapolis, St. Louis, and down to New Orleans; finally, on the way back, Baltimore and Philadelphia. I generally arrived at a school a short time before the hour appointed for the talk, and the strain of finding each school's location made the three months an exhausting exercise. One wintry morning with the roads covered with snow, I was given completely wrong directions, so that I arrived at the school at noon instead of half-past-eight. During the early years, my average acquisition of boys and girls was probably about an eighth of a person per school.
Offsetting all of this grief was the kindness with which I was received by some of the early Experiment families. Mr. and Mrs. Walter Fisher and Mr. and Mrs. Foster Hannaford, both of Winnetka, Illinois, gave me a warm welcome year after year. Without their friendship, I might have given up.
One night when I was to speak at Exeter, it happened that Bradford Washburn, the great mountaineer, was also speaking at the identical time. He filled a large auditorium, and I felt quite lucky when three boys abandoned him to listen to me.
Frank Rounds was a member of The First Experiment. He had gone to school at Andover and at the time was a student at Princeton. During the Christmas vacation, he made arrangements for me to see the headmaster of Andover, Dr. Claude Fuess. Together Frank and I went to see him, and I did my best to make clear that The Experiment had contributed substantially to the general education of four outstanding Andover boys, one of whom was Harlan Cleveland. I added that we had been able to accept these boys with expenses paid by us. Dr. Fuess' reply was in no uncertain terms when he said, essentially: "if you think I am going to help you to promote your summer trip, you are very much mistaken." As we retreated from the headmaster's office, I could feel that Frank was much more embarrassed than I. His regard for The Experiment was so high that it had come as a great shock to hear that Dr. Fuess was entirely hostile. The point was that I knew nothing about selling. We had walked into Dr. Fuess' office that morning without having arranged that one of the beneficiaries of the scholarships tell him about the educational advantages of The Experiment. This I realized only several years later, when the accumulation of painful experiences had provided my first lessons in promotion.
It was on that same winter's trip that a Harvard student made arrangements for me to show my pictures at Eliot House. A couple whose two sons had participated in The Experiment called the professor in charge to ask where the showing would be. In fury at the thought of a salesman invading his house, the professor made it clear that the showing would not be permitted. However, someone must have interceded, for when I appeared at the appointed hour with my projector, I was shown to the students' common-room. Here again my ignorance of salesmanship was painfully apparent. The friendly student who had made the arrangements for me had not convinced his housemates to attend, nor had he come himself. Arriving at the common-room, I found it empty with the exception of one young man who was reading and who obviously had no interest in what I wished to talk about. Undaunted, I asked the student's permission to turn out the light, and he courteously stayed on and watched the film, although it was later evident that he was not inspired by my performance. Several years later, arrangements had improved. When Stephen Powelson, a member of The Third Experiment, was on the Harvard Crimson Board he had articles in that newspaper for several weeks before my appearance. When I arrived in the auditorium, it was impossible to accommodate the crowd that was waiting, and I had great difficulty pushing my way through it.
Barbara Baer de Gomez, who for twelve years has been National Director of The Experiment in Mexico (the only Director who is not a national of the country involved), was an honor student at Bryn Mawr. She felt that President McBride should know about the program which so many Bryn Mawr students had enjoyed. The ploy which I took was that learning by experience was a valuable supplement to academic education, but President McBride briefly made it clear that anything which was not solely academic was of no interest to her nor to Bryn Mawr College, noted as it was for the highest scholarly standards.
During those early years, apart from my wife, I had no help; so that when I started on a three-months trip, the office closed down for the same period. Progress was painfully slow at first. During the reticent salesman's strenuous midwinter trip only a dozen persons were recruited. As this is being written, the value of The Experiment has long been recognized. Although it is still not a degree-granting institution, it fills a definite need. In high contrast to my painful early struggle, many organizations are approaching The Experiment to provide the kind of education which we are equipped to give. It is no longer a question of selling; people now come to us!
ALTHOUGH I PROVED TO BE AN UNSUCCESSFUL SALESMAN, The Experiment already had friends who were more successful. The enthusiastic reports of the Quakers of The First Experiment produced for The Second Experiment a small group consisting of their Quaker friends. Ed Hogenauer, senior assistant leader of The First Experiment, led them. Another group was recruited by Carmelita Hinton, who, like a Pied Piper, formed a group of her three children and their friends, which finally numbered twenty-three members. She later established an original educational plan, The Putney School, which has become one of the country's great.
The pattern of the summer, which later became the standard Experiment, consisted of a month in homes, and another of hiking in the woods and mountains. The program which we had planned for the second summer was carried out in a deeply disturbed country. From its war-like reputation, one would have expected Germany to have been most inhospitable toward a group interested in making peace. Just the opposite reception materialized: the Nazi organizations made us most welcome. Those reading about German life in the American newspapers were incapable of understanding how we could feel safe there. The picture which the newspapers gave and what we actually saw in our families could scarcely have been more different.
Our hosts in Freiburg which we ourselves had picked out were anti-Nazis, even though they said little about it that summer. Those of Fürstenwalde were strong for the Nazi party, but we managed not to quarrel with them. The pressure which the Nazis put on German life was tremendous, but it was possible for us to ignore our hosts' political interests and to learn about some of the fine values of German culture, especially things like opera, folk songs, literature, and particularly their outdoor life, hiking and mountain climbing.
We did not get into difficulty with the families by not falling in step with the Nazi parade. For example, when we passed a Nazi shrine in the streets of München and failed to give the "Heil Hitler" salute, our German friends knew that we had not been swept away by the ever-present propaganda. But the Germans had to conform.
Living first with the boys and girls of Fürstenwalde and then with Austrian young people from the town of Waldhofen-an-der-Ybbs, this group enjoyed to the limit hiking, cycling, paddling in Faltboote, and mountain climbing. Never for a moment did they give a thought to the stay-at-homes who had predicted hostility and danger in Hitler's Germany. Joan Hinton, daughter of the leader, wrote the following account:
Thursday, August 16, 1933
We hired a guide for three days for sixty-six schillings. He walked at a most comfortable pace all day, and we all had to keep behind him. The day was beautiful, the sky a lovely blue. For a long while, the trail led through deep woods. The ground was absolutely covered with bright green moss, and lots of ferns grew among the evergreens.
Finally, after climbing up quite high, we came to a mountain valley. Here were the mountain pastures where the peasants kept their cows and goats in the summer, making cheese and butter.
At noon, we stopped and ate our lunch, the first of the four meals for which we carried food. The guide carried our loaves of bread, Gott sei Dank; my pack was heavy enough anyhow! We lay on nice warm rocks and basked in the sun for two hours after eating. The rest of the way was a steep zig-zagging climb up to the Kürsinger Hütte, which was large and most comfortable. Now we were in sight of gorgeous snow-covered peaks. It had snowed up here while it poured rain in the valley. We all had a snowball fight.
A ring of peaks with an enormous glacier surrounds us on three sides. The Gross Venediger is most impressive. Its pointed peak is higher than any of the others around it. They say that the weather will be sicker gut (certainly good) tomorrow.
We dressed tonight, before we went to bed, in all our warm clothes, as we have to get up at three to climb the Gross Venediger.
Friday, August 17th
The group was winding its way up the path by lantern light at 3:45 A.M., each with a bowl of warm soup inside. The morning light on the mountain peaks was lovely, lighting up one side of the snowy Spitzen (peaks). In the west, the sky was bright blue above and lower, rose-colored like the mountains. At five o'clock it was fairly light. We had reached the glacier and were roped up.
We trudged slowly along, taking short steps. It began to get frightfully cold because the wind was blowing hard. We had to stop and rest. Sugar was passed out. We went on again, but soon, in the coldest place of all where no sun was shining, we stopped once more. When we got to the steepest part, we had to stop and rest every forty to fifty Steps, because of the thin air. It was a long, slow pull to the top, but we were in the sunshine now and were all warm again.
It was interesting to see how the snowy mountains went out in a fan shape from a center, then came the rocky part, and then, far away, the low valley. They said we could see Switzerland, Germany, France, and the Dolomites in Italy. It was too cold to stay long on top. Just a little way down, we stopped in a sheltered place and ate our second breakfast. Going down was super fun! You just stood and slid down the trail on your feet like skiing. Of course, when the rope suddenly tightened, you took a header, but that was part of the excitement. All afternoon, back at the hut again, we lay in our shorts in the hot sun on the rocks, sleeping and talking---close around us the cold, snow-covered peaks and glaciers.
Saturday, August 18th
Roped together again, we crossed the glacier between the Kürsinger and the Wamsdorfer Berghütte (hostels). There were clouds over the Gross Venediger at eight o'clock, the time we had been there the day before. We had struck the best and only perfect day to climb it. Although it is sunny, there are many clouds on the peaks. At the other side of the glacier, we climbed a wee peak, the Gains Spitze, and rested. There was great excitement as to whether we should climb over the high Birnlücke into Italy. The border runs along the top of the mountain. My sister Jeanie and I followed Xandl to the top. It was wonderful because we were not roped. Thousands of tiny Alpine flowers grew wherever there was grass. Towards Italy a long, deep valley stretched far away into the distant haze with high, snowy peaks on each side. This is SW Tyrol and is populated with Austrian peasants.
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Christl and Gehrhardt would not come with us down to the Italian hut. They feel very bitter about Tyrol. Gehrhardt says they will certainly get it back.
We slid down three knorke (swell) snow patches on the way home and then ran pell-mell down the mountain. It is a wonder that no one sprained an ankle.
Naturally, I was eager to let the people of the United States know the truth about our summer, and so I wrote the article which, with only a little editing, follows:
When The Second Experiment in International Living sailed for Germany this summer, the chief topic in matters foreign in the United States was the new regime in Germany. There were not a few Americans who insisted that Germany would be an unpleasant if not a dangerous place.
The suggestion of personal danger to foreigners is no less laughable to those who spent the summer in that country than the thought of German courtesy failing. The well-known love of order found in Hitlerism a power to elevate it to the point of mania. It is the excess of order which strikes the visitor, and the militaristic aspect of Nazi order that the American visitor finds irritating. The fascistic salute flashes continually in the streets. Even the women, with self-conscious awkwardness, are obliged to "Heil Hitler" with a gesture to which they are quite unaccustomed.
The power of suggestion of this constant saluting is so great that the foreigner to whom it is offensive is obliged to use all his restraint if he does not wish to join the saluting throng. This hypnosis of the masses is heightened by the ever-present Hakenkreuz (swastika) flag and by innumerable, uniformed citizens. The German musical ability is capitalized to the limit. At all times of the day, one can hear marching groups singing the stirring songs of the Hitler propaganda department. Down the street, one sees stamping in knee boots a mere boy indulging his love of playing soldier. He certainly has purchased the boots at great personal sacrifice.
Hitlerism has seized the imagination of the boys. Now they have an objective to work for and they are doing it fanatically. They talk constantly of the twelve years of slavery imposed by the Treaty of Versailles of which every German is painfully conscious. Many close observers of Hitler's achievements feel that up to the present this supreme example of the successful manufacturing of morale is all that he has done.
The boys of Germany are practically unanimous in an overwhelming enthusiasm for their great leader. One has ranked him after Jesus and Luther as history's greatest man. They are called upon for the utmost self-sacrifice and are attempting to serve the Fatherland by developing themselves, mentally but especially physically, to such an extent that the foreigner fears for their health. They are throwing themselves with idealism into a movement which they believe will produce a happier, better Germany. This means a Spartan regime of early rising, physical exercise, no cigarettes or alcohol. Even the much-loved coffee is banned.
They see in the new program the complete socialization of Germany. The more visionary believe that there will be a rapid extinction of capitalism and that the world's sorrows will be cured by a form of socialism which differs only slightly from the hated communism. It seems that the honor of being the world's laboratory for political and social experimentation will pass from Russia to Germany. Many feel that Hitler has no idea whether the movement will develop as the idealists believe or whether practical considerations will put the government into the hands of conservatives.
Our boys and girls were lodged in German families, each person in a different home, which gave us an excellent opportunity really to get the feeling of the situation. Under the surface of the daily life seen by the ordinary tourist, we were in a position to sense an unrest not to be found in past years. This tension was based upon one's political viewpoint. Those who are enthusiastic about the present regime, and they seem to be a majority, are extremely sensitive to any criticism of it and have an overwhelming urge to make everything in the National Socialistic program appear to the best advantage. Those who oppose it, and none do in public, are in constant anxiety of losing their jobs or being harassed in some other way. Even parents dare not oppose their children.
The American groups were faced with a nice problem in practical ethics. All they had learned of Hitlerism in America was definitely unfavorable, but here they actually saw some good features of it. How was one to behave toward his German host? By common consent, we decided to reserve judgment of Hitler and his program during our stay in Germany and to gather all the information possible on the accusations heard at home. One day after leaving the country, on a mountain top in Austria, the group met to formulate our impressions into statements which would represent the attitudes of the whole group.
The first point considered was the Jewish question, It was the unanimous opinion of the group that while few if any Jews had been killed during the heat of the revolution and relatively few roughly handled, there was a carefully organized boycott of Jewish business which seemed to have the support of the whole population. It developed that it was difficult to boycott all Jewish business because such a large proportion of all business was in Jewish hands. This fact constitutes the main cause of the anti-Semitic movement combined with the extreme economic depression under which the Germans, like the rest of us, were suffering.
The control of the press and the existence of the ever-present political propaganda was then considered. The consensus was that the Hitler government allowed no opinion contrary to its own to be expressed in public. Even liberal-minded Germans seemed to feel that this fascistic principle was preferable to the ineffectual wrangling of the innumerable parties in the immediate past.
The question of book-burning was considered, and two facts seemed to appear. Much salacious and tawdry printed matter was put on the index, along with works of outstanding thinkers both in Germany and the rest of the world. The former is in accordance with a definite tendency toward Puritanical respectability, the latter because they compromise "the German spirit," a concept sacred to all good Nazis but which we find meaningless. For example, All Quiet on the Western Front was burned, not because it was against war, but because it pictured the great institution of the German Army in an unfavorable light. The second fact was that if the reading of prohibited books was discovered, it was dealt with in no gentle way.
The area in which our group was most competent to judge was the life of the young people. We were impressed with the program and accomplishments of the boys and girls with whom we lived for a month. They are surmounting their relative poverty by a return to simple folk ways. In place of the artificial and expensive amusements of America, group singing---and how they can sing!---folk dancing, and athletics are their pastimes. They spurn the commercial and competitive sports and instead have a program of "self-development for the Fatherland." Many Germans see back of all this enthusiasm for healthy bodies the development of effective cannon fodder. However that may be, the effect upon the individual is, in general, excellent.
Perhaps the most surprising new thought for us was the claim that Hitlerism is a democratic movement. The Nazi party consists mostly of small property-holders. Since they base their political action on their woes, they believe that Hitler intends to see that the wealth of the country is distributed fairly among all, from the near feudal ruling classes to the simplest workmen.
The surging up of the First World War's fear and hate which the Nazi revolution caused in most of the world did not prevent our group from visiting Germany. Our summer was finished, and the leaders were bound to ask themselves whether we were justified in exposing young people to ideas so odious to the liberal-minded American.
Our answer is as follows: Not only were we in no way converted to militarism and race hatred, but we were conscious of how propaganda is being used by a few to excite and control a nation.
It became clear to us that in spite of the barriers of language and political viewpoint, if one approaches the people of a foreign land with a friendly and intelligent attitude, personal friendships are made which can be most rewarding.
Perhaps most important of all, we realized that the people whom we met were very much like us. This was important, because in the name-calling which inevitably follows a fight, we at least could retain a sense of proportion. We could see the causes which made the Nazis act as they did, and many of their later actions we certainly had to deplore. The Second Experiment in International Living was an interesting and successful demonstration of tolerance.
My report was not acceptable to any newspaper or periodical, which is the way that publicity is conducted during war hysteria. The Experiment group was in Germany with the idea that it would try to create understanding where misunderstanding was greatest. We were a small and insignificant organization in those days, and those who did not understand what we were trying to do went out of their way to call us Nazis. Among these were chiefly the members of the American Legion of Putney Village. In 1937 and 1938, when we were building our home, Himmel, and the large pieces of concrete and the big wooden beams that went into the building of it passed through the village, these same people told one another that we were building a Nazi Bund fortress. Although it has been nearly a generation since we gained the reputation, I am told that some of the people of the village still are convinced that I was and am a Nazi. They say that farther out of Putney where people have not had a chance to know us better, Himmel, with its German name, is still a Nazi Bund fortress.
Moreover, when Carmelita Hinton's group arrived in New York, I had another setback in my ambition to show that we were not pro-Nazi, but simply making an effort to see both sides of a difficult situation. The captain of their ship got hold of the group and had his picture taken with them. They were clad in their Austrian costumes (similar to German) and were enthusiastically giving the Nazi salute. The picture had a preferred position in the New York Times. Thus ended The Second Experiment.