urbanarama, part one

Music: The Action: Rolled Gold (1968)

Well, it's just gorgeous here in Urbana, where I visit with Debbie and John on a sort-of research junket (I say sort-of, as the lavishness is supplied by friendship and love, and thus not at the public's expense). My hosts live in "historic, west Urbana" which has cobblestone streets lined with huge trees. Their house is charming as all get out (they've done a ton of updated to this 1920s hardwood wonder), and just a fifteen-minute walk to campus. Since I've not really been in a neighborhood like this in many, many years, it is sort of like living in a movie about a professor's life (except that John and Debbie are living that life)—but better than the stereotype, because this so-called life have two beautiful, charming whippets! I love me some whippet.

Saturday night Debbie fed me some martinis (which was delightful; I got the third one just to flirt with our waitress one more time; I confess I like braids almost as much as I like whippets, and had she on argyle socks I think I would have been done in). Sunday we did some leisurely exploration and brunching and seeing Lincoln's bust-ing. Apparently students rub Abe's nose for good luck on exams, although I couldn't resist picking it.

I dined and drank last night with the most excellent Troy, George, and Peter (props!). I learned about grad student culture and, more importantly, musical tastes (Troy agreed with me that Of Montreal is way overrated, and Peter impressed me with his love of Koko Taylor.) George had to leave to write a paper. I didn't have the heart to tell George that that feeling and sense of guilt never ends---unless, of course, you have that extra pint. Then, if you still have that feeling you end up writing Burkean critiques of the 1040 tax form and rhetorical criticism of James Brown's grunt (I drunkenly penned them for R.L. Scott's rhetorical theory seminar in two different quarters).

Today I had lunch with Darrell (who is coming to UNT! w00t!), who fed me delicious clay pot chickenness. I forgot to take a photo---dang. Then I got down to the business I am primarily here for (well, I at least have to say that): The "Mandeville Collection in the Occult Sciences," which is an endowed collection in the Educational and Social Sciences library. Basically, it’s a huge section of books on the occult that began with a donation from Merten J. Mandeville (about 400 books). Since then the thing has grown to 16,000 volumes. Mandeville was a professor of commerce in the business school, but apparently had a big, personal interest in the paranormal and occult. I spent about 45 minutes talking to the librarians about the collection itself, who comes to research in it, and so forth. To me, the collection is fascinating because of the stipulations Mandeville set in place for the collection: the books should be scholarly, and they should be "positive." This "positive" criterion is in the collection literature too. A very attractive and friendly librarian (I need to learn to flirt better—any tips? I'm going back tomorrow) said that by "positive" he meant "no, uh, no black magic." Apparently this is also the collection from which the most books are stolen.

"So, how do you determine what is and isn't black magic?" I asked.

"Well, that's the problem; there's a very fine line," she said, speaking of acquisitions. "For some religious people all of it is black magic."

This got me to thinking about my own career path and the difficulty my dissertation topic posed for me on job interviews. I always did a presentation on Satanism because, I figured, if people were going to object to my work on the "label," then I might as well go ahead and bring out the spooky shit. Of course, my talk was designed to alleviate precisely that kind of worry, as if to say, "see, I'm not a devil worshipper." In any event, it would seem the Mandeville collection has a similar problem: things get stolen not simply because they are unusual, but also to protect those malleable and impressionistic college kids.

So, here we are: Mandeville's secret obsession has brought me out of the (janitor's) closet to the University of Illinois. Who knew a curiosity in magic would eventually lead to an expense paid trip to play with friends (and make some new ones too)? I managed to locate some stuff that will prove helpful on my current book project (a book on "disembodied voices" by a British scholar). Tomorrow I'll see what else I can scrounge up, and maybe just maybe that librarian will be working.

(Oh, I almost forgot: a gallery of my visit thus far is here!)