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Home>Harvard>People>Ruth
As I think of dad’s attitude toward Dr. Romer I find that I actually don’t know what it was directly. He never talked about his bosses. Never. He was silent about that relationship -virtually all relationships as a matter of fact- so I don’t really know from his own words. The best evidence of his attitude to Dr. Romer is found in his own words this letter that he wrote many years after he left Harvard. It was written to Sally, the daughter of Al and Ruth. I was aware of Sally but was younger, consequently out of her bubble of consciousness, which was fine with me. She was intimidating in her lovely confidence and sociability.
The other reason for including this letter is to illuminate Sally’s thoughtfulness which speaks volumes about the quality of her education. Upon Ruth’s death Sally sent notices of the event to those who cared about Ruth. She probably took Ruth’s address book and carefully identified the people that she knew had maintained a correspondence with her, and then sent letter to them. In dad’s response which is given verbatim, you get a sense of dad’s affection and admiration for both Al and for Ruth:
(Dad didn’t date his letter which frosts me. Why don’t people date their writings? Grrrr. The only way I can approximate the date of this letter is the date -Sept. 21, 1992- on the Thank You note that Sally sent to dad in response to this letter:)
“Sally Romer Evans
210 Elm Street
Northampton,.Mass. 01060
Dear Sally:
Thank you very much for your kindness in sending the card announcing your mothers passing. It was very thoughtful of you.
Your parents played a prominent and very important role in my life. Dr. Romer brought me from Alaska to what was a very different life style at MCZ, in paleontology, and New England. What a tremendous new chapter in my life that move began. I admired and respected him so much I could never call him anything but Dr. Romer, even though we spent a lot of time--nearly two years all together—in the badlands collecting fossils. Ruth insisted I call him "Al" as we spent months living in the intimate environment of tents in different places.
Your mother was on all of our expeditions and Arnie and I loved her for after about two and a half months—excepting South America—she would say; "Al, these boys have been away from their wives long enough. It's time they were getting back". I could relate a thousand scenarios of her power and influence, in as many places, but there was one in South America which I must tell you. It was a good example of her indomitable spirit and courage and occurred on our first expedition.
As you no doubt know, she never did anything half way. This event took place at the end of our first trip, the time we were installed in that wonderful oasis Samay Huasi near Chilecito. We had contracted with the owner of a truck line to haul our fossils to Buenos Aires in a big semi. The fossils were stacked at Samay Huasi in six huge crates all ready to go while Arnie and I made a last trip over the mountains to our Rio Gualo camp to load up the last great box of specimens (which would ride in the back of our truck to B.A.), break camp and return to pick up Dr. Romer and Ruth and head out across the pampas to B.A.
Well, it didn't work out that way. The last great blow of intrigue and deceit, which had harassed us for six months, was about to fall. The perpetrators were several and well known to us but not yet in their final roles. For one thing, the owner of the truck line happened to be the Provincial Governor’s brother-in-law. The Governor had long been casting covetous eyes on our success, played up too much (of course) in the media, and was determined to get his grubby claws on the treasure, by hook or crook, and mostly by the latter he succeeded.
Arnie and I left for our task the day before the truck was scheduled to pick up the fossils at Samay Huasi. Innocently it pulled into the compound and a crew of peons sweat and heaved the boxes, each weighing in the neighborhood of 800 lbs. in place. No doubt with a twisted smirk, the driver eased the truck on out of the walls of the compound, through the archway, and into the clutches of the local constabulary. Samay Huasi was federal property so they couldn't touch us there.
The truck was immediately placed in custody by a group of officers waiting there, and the whole mess headed for the slammer in Chilecito—pursued by Dr. Romer and Ruth in our jeep, with her at the wheel. Can you image the grim look of anger, frustration and determination on her face? God bless her. I know it was there. The result of six months of hard work had been stolen by nothing less than highway robbery! The next scene is at the jail with the truck backed conveniently up to its door.
Skids were placed at the rear of the truck for the obvious purpose of unloading the boxes. Now the real action is about to occur: The peons lay hands on the first box and Ruth comes flying out of the jail, handbag swinging, and the peons are frightened away. They are all married men and very able to recognize a mad woman when they see one. This buys some time for palaver. Ruth has a good command of imperative Spanish. She does the talking for our side. The peons lean on the truck, the truck driver trims his fingernails, and again the peons are commanded to unload the box. The swinging handbag assaults them from the jail once more and they quickly back off. More palaver.
Three times the handbag drives off the peons, who scatter like timid vultures, but Dr. Romer remonstrates with Ruth. There is no way they can win. She simply must let the fossils be unloaded and incarcerated completely out of their control. Jumpy peons with very alert, wary eyes, drag each box back to the edge of the truck, skid it down the poles and heave and shove it on rollers into the jail; all six boxes.
The next morning about four AM Arnie and I pull into Samay Huasi to find them pacing the floor. "Did anyone see you come into town?" they ask. Somewhat baffled by such an unusual welcome at that time of night we stammer; "We-1-1, not really. We did leave two people off at the pension. They rode in with us after we escaped the last flood". They dump their story and Dr. Romer concludes; "you must get that seventh box out of the province as quickly as possible. Leave now. How much gas have we got? Have you anything to eat?"
We assure him we have enough gas for at least several hours travel and, no, we haven't eaten since yesterday noon. We were caught in a flood in the high granite mountains and had to wait four hours for it to subside enough for a mob of (us) travelers assembled to build a rough crossing. We have at the present moment been active for about 24 hours with little to eat. We had flood trouble three times during that period.
Ruth scrounged some dry crackers and a forlorn stale sausage and some chalky Argentine (ugh) chocolate from the jeep. We rounded up all our spare gas and loaded it into the truck and in less than a half hour, just as it was beginning to get light, we pulled out for a distant destination far away in another province. They had talked over a possible escape and haven for the last box, safe from all La Rioja provincial authority. They recounted our previous experience at the Estancia Hollandaise, and the friendly Dutch matron there who had some of her property confiscated by federal authority because she had allowed an American outfit to build a satellite tracking station on it. It was in the governments best interest, they said, with no intention of recompense. Ruth was sure that if we turned up there, on the lam, with a crate of hot fossils needing secretion, she would be only too glad to help us out—which she certainl was and did.
Well, to make a very long and arduous story short—our flight to safety—we eventually turned up again at Samay Huasi, much to the relief of our compadres. We had traveled through mountains and desert over 500 km, going hungry and sleepless most of the way. It was like a TV thriller but I won't burden you with it now, suffice it to say we all congratulated each other that we would at least have one crate of fossils to study. The four of us would pick it up on our way to B.A. Before leaving Chilecito we visited the jail again to say farewell to our precious cargo at which time Arnie took a picture of our fossil crates in jail.
Ruth and I had various experiences as together we went off in the jeep to get supplies at some distant place. I assured her I would never try to preach Mormonism to her. However, I had her promise that if she ever wanted to know she was to ask and I would deliver. She never asked. As I believe in a Hereafter, I told her I did not want her to come up to me inside the pearly gates, or where ever, and demand to know why I had never told her all the stuff I believed in. We got along together very well just as long as I remembered to put the damn lid on the pot when I was trying to boil water in camp. She was a good worker, never slacking in the face of difficult circumstances in food, weather and transportation. She was game for anything, which you know.
I lost track of Arnie ten years ago. He never writes and though he knows where I am, I don't know where he is. Somewhere in Florida I think.
Dr. Romer and Ruth are among some of the most important people in my life. I was just a peon but they always treated me as if I had some merit. I particularly enjoyed the Texas trips.
In loving memory of both of them,
Sincerely yours,
/signed/
James A. Jensen”
I like this letter. It gives a sense of dad’s affection for both of the Romers. It was as if they were his parents, older ones who took him under their wings and nourished and encouraged him, urging him to move beyond his own self-imposed limitations. (Note the reference in the next to the last paragraph about Arnie. That was written in about the same era I talked to Arnie and he was irritated at dad. Dad must have done something awful, because Arnie is one of the gentlest people I’ve known. However, dad doesn’t own any responsibility here, pretending that they have just lost track of each other, and even putting a bit of blame on Arnie by saying, “...he knods where I am, I don’t know where he is.” He could find out easily if he wanted to.
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