Monday, August 6, 2012

REFLECTIONS OF A LIFE: Chapter 8, Our Years in Washington


Chapter 8

Our Years in Washington



            With the acceptance of my dissertation and the consequent awarding of the Ph.D., our stay in Washington was assured.  We wanted to buy a house, rather than renting, but we needed to accumulate enough money for a downpayment.  Though we had watched our finances before, now we increased our efforts even more to be frugal in our quest to save for such a downpayment.  Our apartment in Cheverly, Maryland, a close-in suburb to Washington, was fairly new and air conditioned, something we never had before, but a necessity in the hot and humid Washington summers as we found out that first September  when 28 days were in the 90s.  Still, we dreamed of having our own home.

            I should make an observation here about frugality.  I hope our children and grandchildren will not disavow it completely in years to come, even though their circumstances will be different than ours in those years when Dorothy and I sought to reach for a better life, and earnestly embraced delayed gratification.  Being frugal does not mean a less happy life.  Indeed, there is satisfaction in seeking the best values for your expenditures, to avoid the frivolous, and to relish the accumulation of savings.  It simply means exploring how you will spend your scarce resources and deciding what will bring you the most satisfaction.  Will it be costly meals that may give you an hour or so of pleasure?  Will it be a more expensive brand when a less costly one will do as well, and who will know the difference?  Will it be lawn service and snow plowing, when at this time in your life you can easily handle such chores.  Or vacations:  Are  you going to enjoy the expensive vacation and lodging that much more than a less extravagant effort?  We have found that the simple things can give as much pleasure, even more sometimes, than expensive undertakings.

            It took us a year to save a little more than two thousand dollars.  At this time I was still a year away from completing the Ph.D., though we didn't know it then, and it might have made a difference in our eagerness to buy.  We optimistically made a 10 percent down-payment on a new condominium in Crofton, Maryland, a planned development thirty miles east of downtown D.C.  It was in a cul-de-sac with others about the same size or a little bigger, and cost $21,500.  It seemed a mansion to us, with two bedrooms on the second floor, a kitchen, dining room, and small living room on the first floor, and a partially finished basement that I converted to an office.  It had no lawn in front, but we could park our cars next to the front door.  The back yard was not much either, but had a fenced space about 10' by 15', where we could have a barbecue grill and sit in some privacy to contemplate the sky, and listen to the neighbors on either side and across the way. 

            The neighbors were like us, mostly young professionals with small children who had also invested in their first home.  It was a place to grow friends, and we still exchange Christmas cards and updates with one couple more than forty years later.

            Crofton was a substantial development, encompassing not only condos but single-standing homes surrounding a meandering golf course, as well as having a village square with offices and stores in a colonial decor.  The entrance to this whole development was a winding road coming in from a busy north/south divided highway (Hy 301).  On still nights we could hear the hum of trucks even though they were half a mile away.  The golf course was a great inducement to buy here, and was far superior to the public courses I had always played on.  Yet, the fees were modest compared to courses closer to the city, and Dorothy and I had some of our finest experiences here, only surpassed years later at Shaker Country Club in Cleveland.

            Besides the busy truck-filled highway confronting us as we drove to town or shopping or whatever, a major drawback was the distance to Washington and to my job at GW in the heart of the city.  I was luckier than most of our neighbors since with my class schedule I could usually avoid rush hour traffic; still the commute was a drain on time and car expense.  Hardly a week went by without traffic coming to a complete halt, and then only grudgingly crawling forward because of an accident, car trouble blocking a lane, or construction.

            On the other hand, we found great delight in this country, so unlike the Midwest we had grown up in.  Crofton was midway between Washington and Annapolis, which was on Chesapeake Bay, and we explored the byways of this Maryland countryside.  We often would drive a back road over to Annapolis and park near the harbor with all the sailboats and yachts, and with Connie we would revel in the activity and the sea gulls wheeling overhead.  We would walk the cobbled streets of downtown and around the preserved buildings of the state capitol over to the Naval Academy with white-uniformed midshipmen filling the sidewalks and grassy areas. 

            Not far from Annapolis was a state park with a wide sandy beach fronting on the bay and we often took Connie there for wading in the gentle waters.  Seeing my family in this expanse of sky and lapping waves and soft sand was something I took into my heart, growing up as I had thousands of miles away from big waters and doubting that I would ever be so blessed as to have a wonderful wife and family.

            We explored monuments and museums and famous buildings of our nation's capital and vicinity, and also forts around Washington and Baltimore's Fort McHenry where the Star-Spangled Banner was composed.  There was so much to see and do and much promise to our lives, but not until I had the dissertation completed and successfully defended.

           
            The move to Chaddsford. — After three years at Crofton, we hankered for a bigger house.  Our condo, which had seemed so large after apartments, was really quite small, especially now that we had Matt.  I was doing a lot of writing, working on a marketing textbook, and the basement office was dark and cramped.  I thought how good it would be to have an office with more room and an outside view rather than walls. Furthermore, the yearly fee for the Crofton Country Club had been substantially raised and we felt our budget could not afford this.  (I had scarcely had a raise since I'd been at GW, partly because of my high starting salary and long delay in finishing the Ph.D., but also because the school was facing serious financial problems.)

            For the next eight months we spent weekends visiting model houses of various developments in Greater Washington.  These titillated our dreams of a better life that could await us.

            We finally decided on Chaddsford, a development of single houses on one-third acre lots directly north of downtown Washington, still in the Maryland suburbs but much closer to the city than Crofton.  These three-story houses were in the mid-40s, double the price of our place in Crofton.  But we were able to sell the condo for $26,000, tripling our initial down payment and now could afford the downpayment at Chaddsford.  Such was the strategy of many home buyers in those days of rapidly appreciating home prices.  As we know now, this continued for decades, until beginning in 2006 the housing boom (now they call it a bubble) began fading, to the point of complete collapse and spearheading a recession.  But those days, home buyers could keep trading up with the growing equity in the present home used as down payment, thus riding the surge in available credit until some could reach millionnaire homes in such booming housing markets as Boston, New York, Washington, Florida and Arizona and California.           

            Like Crofton, Chaddsford was a development of young upwardly-mobile families, and we fit in nicely with our neighbors.  I did miss the golf course at Crofton, but was very busy writing. Even had a golf course been easily available, I would have begrudged the time commitment of golf.

            I had the entire third floor, a finished attic, for my office, and relished such space and the windows that looked out in three directions at rolling fields of trees and meadows nicely interspersed with houses.  But I found my attention straying and sometimes wondered if I would not have been more productive in my former basement with windowless walls.

            We had new territory to explore in these Maryland hills, and I became fascinated with nearby Civil War battlefields, notably Antietam, the site of the bloodiest single day of the War, and Gettysburg, with the bloodiest carnage of all, but spread over three days.  I became so intrigued with these fields where thousands had died that I started writing a book, "Civil War Battlefields Revisited," that would combine a present perspective to the deadly past.  I submitted three chapters to publishers, but none were interested enough to take on the project.

            It took me about as long to get to work from Chaddsford as it had from the more distant Crofton.  But I could route myself for most of the way through the winding greenery of Rock Creek Park, and not on the crowded freeways from Crofton.  This made for a better quality of life, and the large four-bedroom house on such a big lot seemed a dream, until it came time to cut the grass.  Our earlier aspirations had almost been realized, and years before we ever expected such.  But a few years later I became dissatisfied with my lot at GW.


            My later years at GW and the first book. — Despite having disappointed Dean Dockeray by my dissertation delay, I was well liked at GW, and was promoted and given tenure only two years after finishing the dissertation and receiving the Ph.D.  (This was my fourth year at GW, since I had been two years in getting the doctorate.)  My naivete was such that I did not realize the full meaning of what they had done for me in giving me tenure and promotion to associate professor so soon without my even expecting it. 

            Only later at Cleveland State did I learn of the stress of junior professors trying to get tenure.  For many years at CSU, I was on the Promotion and Tenure Committee, reviewing junior professors in their quest for tenure.  To have a chance at tenure they had to have at least six articles published in professional journals, and these journals were graded according to their acceptance rate and prestige.  It was not easy to get published in prestigious journals as these could be very selective.  Worse, it could often take six months or longer for a manuscript to be considered, and even if not rejected might still require substantial rewriting to satisfy the editors. 

            Such publishing had to be done within six years; otherwise the candidate could no longer stay on the faculty.  This was an up or out situation—either qualify for promotion and tenure or you had to leave.  At Cleveland State only one-third made tenure.  In more research-oriented universities the requirements were more stringent and the attrition greater. 

            After getting tenure I turned my attention from journal articles to writing textbooks.  It seemed better to write for money rather than simply researching and writing arcane articles where at best you could expect to receive several copies of the article when it finally came out.

            I began a rather ambitious project for a first book.  I wanted to write a basic marketing textbook but with more of an environmental and socially responsive flavor than anything on the market.  I quickly interested a major publisher in the book proposal and worked on it every chance I could get—nights, weekends, Christmas and summer vacations.  I became obsessed with writing to the point of begrudging time away from it.  Dorothy quickly dampened my full obsession by citing the need for family time and I settled on a more balanced work commitment. 

            It took two years to finish the manuscript and send it to the publisher for editing and the production that took another year for the book to come out.  It was 716 pages and included an instructor's manual and a test bank that I had also done.  International Textbook Company published it late 1971 with a copyright of 1972.  The title was Marketing: Management and Social Change.

            Some critics called it too different from the conventional treatment of marketing principles, having an overemphasis on social and environmental issues including consumerism, criticisms of marketing, ethics, social responsibility and marketing responsiveness.  Others said it was in the vanguard of the new and desired approach to marketing.  But it was not very successful saleswise.

            However, the book brought me enough visibility and impressed enough people that I suddenly found I had mobility and was attractive to other schools.  My major complaint with George Washington University was the low pay scale.  At that time, 1972, after seven years at GW and a promotion to associate professor, I was still only making $14,000, well below the average pay at other universities for similar rank.  GW, being a private university rather than state supported, was always short on finances.  At the same time, in order to attract new faculty it needed to pay the market rate.  This meant that new hires were coming in with higher salaries than more senior faculty who had been there for years.  I remember one year I was given a $300 raise, but the university raised the parking rates by $460 a year.

            So in early 1972 I began investigating other possibilities and interviewed at a number of campuses.  I accepted a position at Cleveland State University with a promotion to full professor and $21,500, a $7,500 gain for over 50% more than I was making at GW.  The new book was the major reason for the attractive offer, but CSU also was actively seeking faculty as it had recently been taken into the state university system and was expanding rapidly.  






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