Berkeley, California, 1963 - I had never heard of the burg until my undergraduate advisor at University of Wisconsin-Madison suggested that I consider the University of California for a Ph.D. in agricultural economics. So here I was for graduate work with some hand-picked students recommended by California's network of alumni throughout the nation, indeed, the world. That's how some of this stuff works.
Thanks to the Gianinni Foundation of Agricultural Economics, some of us lowly graduate students were blessed with generous research assistantships and office space in Gianinni Hall. Amadeo Gianinni was the son of Luigi Gianinni, an immigrant from Sardinia. Young Amadeo became incredibly successful as a vegetable broker in San Francisco. In 1904 he founded a bank designed to serve immigrants, workers, and common people, the Bank of Italy. The earthquake of 1906 destroyed much of San Francisco, including the bank's building - but not the Bank of Italy.
With a generous grant to the University of California in 1928, the Bank of Italy founded the Gianinni Foundation of Agricultural Economics. A portion of that grant was used to build Gianinni Hall, an attractive structure of Tuscan design. Its landscape included cypresses, olive trees, and stone pines, the original seeds brought directly from Italy.
Gianinni's bank later merged with another banker, Orra E. Monette. The Bank of Italy became The Bank of America.
Few people realize that UC-Berkeley's Department of Agricultural Economics is where John Kenneth Galbraith received his Ph.D. before going on to greater things. As Garrison Keilor bills himself as "The English major who made good," with due respect to my colleagues in the profession, it might be said that John Kenneth Galbraith was "The agricultural economist who made good."
Having been admitted to this prestigious program, I was under the illusion that I was a good student. How quickly I was brought back to earth. These were some of the hardest working, brightest students I had ever run into. And if being thrown in with top American students were not enough - there were top students from all over the world - including France, Italy, India, and Israel.
If that still were not enough, we ag econ students had to pass the same theory classes as the economics students in the econ department - yet more top students striving to excel. How does one survive in that kind of environment? By putting in long, arduous hours, and giving up everything else in life. The lights of Gianinni Hall burned late every night as students returned after dinner to hit the books.
And it wasn't just the students. An assistant professorship at Berkeley was a prized opportunity for beginning professors. For those young faculty members, it was "publish or perish" on steroids. They were under tremendous pressure, as were we graduate students.
Paul Samuelson of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) was one of the most influential economists of the 20th century. One of his newly minted Ph.D.s, his youngest and best ever, we were told, had just arrived at Berkeley. Young hot shot Peter Diamond was assigned to co-teach the Ph.D. level economic macro economic theory course. His students were considerably older than he was. Though brilliant, he was incomprehensible and came across as arrogant. The only thing that saved me, and probably others as well, was that the course was co-taught by an elder statesman of the profession, Tibor Scitovsky. For the final exam, we could choose either Diamond's or Scitovsky's questions. I answered Scitovsky's questions and, incredibly, received an "A" for that harrowing course.
It was time to grab that "B" from first semester theory, and that "A" from Diamond's course and retreat to the comfort and relative safety of Gianinni Hall. I had seen enough of Berkeley's Economics Department. At least back at Gianinni Hall you could keep your feet on the ground, and the professors would to talk to you - some of "em, anyway.
Peter Diamond was destined to go on to greater things, eventually being awarded the Nobel Prize in Economics. I never again encountered him during my own academic career. I have often thought that if I did, I would like to tell him, "Hey Pete, I aced your course back at Berkeley, no thanks to you - you were a lousy instructor."
But I probably would chicken out and say something lame like, "Gee, Peter, it's an honor to have had you for an instructor back at Berkeley." After all, I agree with his take on our macro-economy.
In spite of that tough first year, it could have been worse. I had that nice assistantship, my wife had a good teaching job, we had no kids at the time, and we lived in low-cost university housing. So we didn't have the financial stress common to many students. We could occasionally go across the Bay with friends to San Francisco and hit one of those fine restaurants. I acquired a passion for that San Francisco sourdough bread - there is nothing like it. It's the live wild yeast organisms and lactobacillus that create that unique sour flavor.
After completing coursework that first year, and the departmental qualifying exams that summer of 1964, things were looking up. But there was still a long way to go. The Berkeley campus appeared to be serene.
In a gasoline dump, all it takes is a spark to ignite a monumental explosion.
1964 - Civil rights battles brewing, national racial unrest, escalation of an unpopular war, and baby boomers with high expectations hitting college - an innocuous event at a great university would be the spark that set off a cultural explosion that changed Berkeley, and changed America.
Next week: The spark that set it off.
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
Thanks to the Gianinni Foundation of Agricultural Economics, some of us lowly graduate students were blessed with generous research assistantships and office space in Gianinni Hall. Amadeo Gianinni was the son of Luigi Gianinni, an immigrant from Sardinia. Young Amadeo became incredibly successful as a vegetable broker in San Francisco. In 1904 he founded a bank designed to serve immigrants, workers, and common people, the Bank of Italy. The earthquake of 1906 destroyed much of San Francisco, including the bank's building - but not the Bank of Italy.
With a generous grant to the University of California in 1928, the Bank of Italy founded the Gianinni Foundation of Agricultural Economics. A portion of that grant was used to build Gianinni Hall, an attractive structure of Tuscan design. Its landscape included cypresses, olive trees, and stone pines, the original seeds brought directly from Italy.
Gianinni's bank later merged with another banker, Orra E. Monette. The Bank of Italy became The Bank of America.
Few people realize that UC-Berkeley's Department of Agricultural Economics is where John Kenneth Galbraith received his Ph.D. before going on to greater things. As Garrison Keilor bills himself as "The English major who made good," with due respect to my colleagues in the profession, it might be said that John Kenneth Galbraith was "The agricultural economist who made good."
Having been admitted to this prestigious program, I was under the illusion that I was a good student. How quickly I was brought back to earth. These were some of the hardest working, brightest students I had ever run into. And if being thrown in with top American students were not enough - there were top students from all over the world - including France, Italy, India, and Israel.
If that still were not enough, we ag econ students had to pass the same theory classes as the economics students in the econ department - yet more top students striving to excel. How does one survive in that kind of environment? By putting in long, arduous hours, and giving up everything else in life. The lights of Gianinni Hall burned late every night as students returned after dinner to hit the books.
And it wasn't just the students. An assistant professorship at Berkeley was a prized opportunity for beginning professors. For those young faculty members, it was "publish or perish" on steroids. They were under tremendous pressure, as were we graduate students.
Paul Samuelson of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) was one of the most influential economists of the 20th century. One of his newly minted Ph.D.s, his youngest and best ever, we were told, had just arrived at Berkeley. Young hot shot Peter Diamond was assigned to co-teach the Ph.D. level economic macro economic theory course. His students were considerably older than he was. Though brilliant, he was incomprehensible and came across as arrogant. The only thing that saved me, and probably others as well, was that the course was co-taught by an elder statesman of the profession, Tibor Scitovsky. For the final exam, we could choose either Diamond's or Scitovsky's questions. I answered Scitovsky's questions and, incredibly, received an "A" for that harrowing course.
It was time to grab that "B" from first semester theory, and that "A" from Diamond's course and retreat to the comfort and relative safety of Gianinni Hall. I had seen enough of Berkeley's Economics Department. At least back at Gianinni Hall you could keep your feet on the ground, and the professors would to talk to you - some of "em, anyway.
Peter Diamond was destined to go on to greater things, eventually being awarded the Nobel Prize in Economics. I never again encountered him during my own academic career. I have often thought that if I did, I would like to tell him, "Hey Pete, I aced your course back at Berkeley, no thanks to you - you were a lousy instructor."
But I probably would chicken out and say something lame like, "Gee, Peter, it's an honor to have had you for an instructor back at Berkeley." After all, I agree with his take on our macro-economy.
In spite of that tough first year, it could have been worse. I had that nice assistantship, my wife had a good teaching job, we had no kids at the time, and we lived in low-cost university housing. So we didn't have the financial stress common to many students. We could occasionally go across the Bay with friends to San Francisco and hit one of those fine restaurants. I acquired a passion for that San Francisco sourdough bread - there is nothing like it. It's the live wild yeast organisms and lactobacillus that create that unique sour flavor.
After completing coursework that first year, and the departmental qualifying exams that summer of 1964, things were looking up. But there was still a long way to go. The Berkeley campus appeared to be serene.
In a gasoline dump, all it takes is a spark to ignite a monumental explosion.
1964 - Civil rights battles brewing, national racial unrest, escalation of an unpopular war, and baby boomers with high expectations hitting college - an innocuous event at a great university would be the spark that set off a cultural explosion that changed Berkeley, and changed America.
Next week: The spark that set it off.
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
