A Toast to TOC-Schenectady
by Andrew Bissell
We all have moments in our lives that are so rare and precious, they’re worth bottling. At The Objectivist Center’s Summer Seminar in Schenectady last week, these moments flowed like water.
Before I begin this article in earnest, I must first thank The Objectivist Center and its staff, without whom I might never have rekindled my passion for Ayn Rand or attended a summer seminar. You have my unending gratitude. This I also owe to Marty Lewinter, a mathematician, guitar pro, composer, comedian, and all-around Renaissance Man who was my host during my trip to New York, and whom I am honored to call my friend.
So, where to begin? Well, there were the lectures—Will Thomas’s insight-a-minute treatise on friendship, Glenn Fletcher’s untangling of the philosophical loose ends that plague modern science, and Michael Newberry’s stirring presentation of his own work, which is art as it can be and ought to be. And—in one of the highlights of the conference—Duncan Scott presented video excerpts of his interviews of Robert Hessen, John Hospers, and Majesty herself, Barbara Branden. When he told the tale of Rand’s bidding him “good premises,” Hospers was moved to tears, and the video stopped. There were a few brief seconds of respectful silence, and then the audience erupted with applause.
Much more than the official lectures, though, it was the people in attendance who made the conference such a joy. Now, since this is a SOLO article, I’ll give a few SOLOists a priority mention. Tibor Machan was hale and hearty as ever, delivering fantastic lectures in his arresting baritone by day, and charming the attendees in the common room by night. Bill Nevin was present with all of Bollywood’s best, and served as my personal guide to Indian culture and cuisine, both of which possess more spice and spirit than their American counterparts these days. Luke Morris—a man with a far better sense of humor than his SOLO picture would suggest—led our whitewater rafting group in many soaring renditions of Monty Python’s greatest hits, and earned my eternal respect for being the first person to ever give me a convincing case for vegetarianism. (Uh oh, Luke, you’ve been outed!) Jim Heaps-Nelson and Robert Bidinotto joined Marty to fill the common room with music well into the wee hours of the morning. And Jeff Carty and David Mayer (who says he lurks here often) both sang their praises of SOLO to me. I only wish I’d had more time to speak with them.
There are so many other friends I met, both old and new, that I could fill SOLO’s article queue for two weeks with paeans to their character and spirit. Caroline Johnson is a femme fatale if ever I met one (for proof just check out the cover of her book here … she’s the one in the middle). Amanda Phillips and her hubby Joe Pompei gave me some much-needed dance lessons, and Amanda—who possesses both a private pilot’s license and a handgun—has cemented her status as a personal hero of mine. Emily Merrill was befuddled by the torrent of graduation congratulations from SOLOists, but was still kind enough to dance with yours truly. Then there were Chris Baylor and Jason Walker, Mike Shapiro and Lindsay Hardman and Scott Schneider, Nick Cassimatis and Christopher Robinson and Ryan Hoover and Joe Duarte … and the list goes on.
There was a small army of other wonderful friends and acquaintances, against whom I must commit the injustice of omission—not because they have been forgotten, but because I do not have space in one article for the hundred thousand-odd words that I would need to describe my love and appreciation for their company this past week.
All around were signs of the burgeoning strength of the Objectivist movement. I met a charming couple who had hooked up on The Atlasphere and were attending their first TOC conference together. I watched an Objectivist appear on national television (Logan Darrow Clements on Catherine Crier Live). There were men and women in their 50s and 60s with more youthful spirit and drive than most of the students on my college campus. And the sense of anticipation surrounding TOC’s move to Washington was palpable. TOC has finally put to bed any notions about its lacking “KASS.”
I often hear Objectivists describe a feeling of sadness at the fact that we may never live in the sort of world that we glimpse only briefly in Ayn Rand’s novels, and at conferences like TOC-Schenectady. Scratch any attendee this week and you’ll probably find someone at least a little sullen from post-conference withdrawal symptoms. Who can blame us? It’s not easy to spend a week in the company of intellectual and spiritual giants, in an atmosphere of high-octane reason and passion, and then—when the week is over—to be thrown back into the “real world,” where things can so often seem tame, tepid, or downright perverse by comparison.
I already had the same heaviness starting to weigh on my heart when Marty and I took a last trip into Manhattan and bought tickets for a harbor cruise. As we rounded the tip of the island we caught a breathtaking view of the Statue of Liberty, with the setting sun brilliantly reflected in the glow of her torch. All my disappointment and dejectedness seemed to wash away at that moment.
Here was a monument from a brighter time in my country’s history, a time when the principles of reason and freedom held much greater sway than they do today. Yet, despite all the betrayals of that which she symbolizes, Lady Liberty still held her beacon aloft, and her spirit and influence are still felt the world over.
I came to understand that, just as this statue had lost none of its brilliance and power as a result of these betrayals, so my memories of the past week—memories of the people I met, the ideas I encountered, the exuberance I felt—would cast their golden rays into even the dullest corners of my life, and infuse it with the awe for life on earth that was so tangible during the conference … an awe that is really the essence of the Objectivist sense of life.
The past week was an experience which stirs in me such fondness and pride that I am moved to tears. To my fellow attendees and friends I offer my thanks, and my wishes of success and happiness wherever this year’s journeys may take you. Until we meet again, bon voyage.
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