Where's Armand?

Nashville, CSI

Notes about a summer road trip by an overheated Armand:

Monday, August 11, 1947. Nashville, Tenn. (352 miles). Started the day very early. At about 4:45, we were awakened by a woman's voice at our screen door: 'Would I move my car; it was blocking theirs?'

Half asleep I hastened to pull on my trousers and comply. Seems their car was in a garage and mine outside (our cabin had no garage attached) was unintentionally blocking it. I pulled out of the way, getting not even a word of thanks, and went back to bed.

Started for here at 8:15. Few moments later we smelled something, found engine smoking and spitting, so hot it ran after ignition turned off and ran until I put it in gear, let out clutch without pushing on accelerator and thus stalled it. Turned out radiator was bone dry.

I got a bucket at a house along road, filled it. Radiator didn't then, nor has it since leaked. All I can see is that the woman's husband, a Texan, sore because I blocked his way, let water out of radiator then restored faucet to closed position (it was closed when I checked it).

We didn't go to bed till midnight, and it was OK till then. A kid could have done it: I doubt it. Damn the Texas s. of a b. Otherwise, a long, uneventful day.

Tuesday, August 12. Rogersville, Tennessee (261 miles). FLASH! TEXAN EXONERATED! No Texan but an intermittent leak currently stopped with Dupont liquid solder (as Time says) caused draining of H2O.

Photo: Chrispwalsh

A Consoling Thought

In February of 1951, Armand Singer pondered what was still over fifty years away, death and the process of dying.

Concerning death, that seems to me so impossible to consider from one's own point of view (the cessation of existence for you, the person doing the thinking), will that point of view such as I have (for me or for people in general) gradually change as one grows older until you become resigned to it, conditioned to it, or even helped by some bio-chemical changes in your own brain system, to the point where it seems normal and natural.

I remember an old notion of mine to reconcile the unthinkable idea of ceasing to exist: as you die you sink into a coma, where (just as in a dream, events taking place over a day can be dreamed in a moment or two) you go on gradually sinking into death, but it seemingly takes forever in your mind. Hence, the death to you, at least never occurs. A consoling thought.

Painting by Hans Eder from Plural Magazine

"...but still!!"

May 12, 1947. Yesterday, Mother's Day, we drove up in A.M. to Pittsburgh for last concert of season. Returned by 7 P.M., driving the Hemmings of Speech Dep't back. They're very nice, he has Teton color movies which we must see! We had dinner at Manuel's here in town, very good, and 4$. Ate with Sallie Board of English Dep't.

Concert was New York Philharmonic, Dimitri Mitropoulos directing. Fine orchestra; fine, sensitive directing - no flaws I could detect except that the Viennese waltz in Rosenkavalier suite dragged a bit, as always.

...We've, for years, longed to hear Rubenstein, so as to compare him with Horowitz, especially after Geefer raved over R. so. Well, Mary was looking over some old souvenir programs she'd kept from Duke. Lo and behold, there was one for Rubenstein.

I laughed: she'd heard him before I knew her, forgotten it. Oh no - program was spring, 1940. We realized it was a program we hadn't heard - just an announcement it really was.

But, just to be sure, we checked in my diary. Well, there it was in black and white: the date and numbers he played - only one of which I remembered having heard after reading the description I'd written. Now tell me you can trust your memory.

It's all a little frightening, a bit saddening to think someone so great left so little impression at the time. To be sure, I wrote that we didn't care for his program that night, and we were on verge of getting married - but still!!

Photo: LIFE

Road Trip-1949

From the Armand Diaries of 1949:

Sunday, September 18, Fairmont, W.VA.
Wednesday we drove 340 miles to Marysville, Kansas; Thursday 409 miles (our record for this summer) to Springfield, Illinois; Friday 302 miles to Troy, Ohio; yesterday 275 miles to here. Trip mileage over 10,000. The day we drove to Marysville, Kansas, car went over the 150,000 mark and over, now, 73,000 miles that we've driven it.

A few days ago, by the time we left Colorado, gradually became clearer and clearer we were back East: more and more towns, more and more shade trees, softer, less invigorating days, quieter scenery, more prosaic people. It's nice to be back and sad too.

A few facts and figures: Longest 2 day drives= the 409 miles above, and 402 miles to Geefer's. A few more in the 300's. Our gravel days in Alaska and Canada more often around 250 miles (and long, tiresome days at that!).

I've now been in all the states of the U.S. except Maine and Rhode Island. All provinces of Canada except Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Newfoundland, and a territory or two. In Mexico, Cuba, Haiti, Jamaica, France, Germany, Austria, Italy, Switzerland, off shore in Ireland; in dock in England. In the territorial waters of Russia. In the territory of Alaska.

This being written in 1946, Armand still had miles to go before the map we saw in 2006 was completed.

UPDATE. Here's a message from Armand's daughter, Ann:

He was quite ashamed, actually...that, by age 35 he had missed 2 states (out of 48) AND all those Canadian Provinces. His goal when I was born...was to have me in all Canada Provinces (there are now 13 provinces and territories with Nunavut only becoming one a few years ago,  I believe...also Labrador may have been its own province back then so maybe there were 13 then as well) and ALL 49 states by the time I was 12 years old. We finished that list by age 11 (1961) and he was so delighted!!!!

Photo of a store in Springfield, Illinois in 1949: View Liner, Ltd.