I Aced Howard Zinn
Over 30 years ago, I took a historiography class at Harvard. I can still remember the room the course was held in; the water cooler always had lots of tea packets available for whoever wanted one. I liked the professor; I took multiple courses with him. I learned a lot during the semester, and I remember working hard for my grade. As I recall, it was an A-; it is a long story, but at that time, it was nearly impossible to get an outright A in any course. Suffice it to say that the university president was overly concerned with grade inflation. He let all the professors know he wasn’t happy with all the As they were giving out.
Historiography, the study of the different ways to approach historical analysis, is a fascinating subject. During the semester, we specifically studied different ways to approach the history of science. Among these were social, intellectual, diplomatic, archaeological, psychological, and biographical. That is a partial list; there are lots of different ways a historian can do their job. During this time, I became interested in prosopography, the study of a person’s family and social connections. I thought it would be informative to study famous scientists’ birth order within their families. I still think it is a study worth doing; if an aspiring historian of science is reading this, have at it, and send me a PDF of the final product.
Perhaps the most famous example of a historian who took an alternate approach to history is Howard Zinn. Howard’s book, A People’s History of the United States, is one of the most important ever written. He doesn’t tell history from the same old tired perspective of that of the winners. He describes it from the perspective of the disadvantaged, the downtrodden, the people who did not benefit from the cultural institutions that don’t spend a lot of time worrying about the plight of the poor. Don’t you think the history of The United States would be a lot different if written by Native Americans or the ancestors of slaves? Howard’s book is powerful; to this day, it is taught in many high schools and universities. Of course, the book became even more famous when Matt Damon’s character mentioned it in Good Will Hunting.
If you are paying attention, you realize that I refer to him as Howard. That seems a bit familiar, doesn’t it? Well, I knew him. I used to play tennis with him. And, as you might have guessed, I have a story to tell about the tennis player I knew simply as Howard.
Let me begin by asking a simple question, an interesting question, one that does not have a clear answer. At some point, a man ( probably wouldn’t have been a female) lived that knew everything there was to know. This person knew of every scholarly work ever written because there weren’t many of them. He had mastered all available knowledge. Who was he? Do we even have known candidates for such a person?
How about Eratosthenes (276-194 BC)? Maybe he knew all there was to know. That means that he had knowledge of all published works in the known world, no matter the field of inquiry. Pretty impressive, no? Of course, I have no idea if he is our man; he might be, but maybe not.
Author’s Note: Englishman Thomas Young (1773-1829) is generally considered to be the last human to know all there was to know. That is unless you know about the 17th century Jesuit Athanasius Kircher (1602-1680), a man reputed to be the last man who knew everything in existence, at least in his known world. Of course, the further back in time we go, the more likely a candidate is to meet our criterion. My point is, at some time in history, there existed a person who knew all there was to know. And yes, it most certainly was a man, women sadly deemed unworthy of education and all.
In the 1980s, it would be absurd to believe that one person could know all there is to know. I certainly didn’t. My breadth of knowledge is pretty good. I have degrees in many different fields, but there is no way a person can know but a fraction of what is available. And think about this; How much has combined human knowledge exploded since the 1980s? How much more do we know now compared to what we knew then? My guess is that the rise is exponential, an informed and most certainly a correct guess.
I am done straining in a futile attempt to make excuses for myself. Here is my story: I used to have a job at a tennis club. I was paid to play with anyone who walked through the door. This included women on the pro tour, outstanding college players, and average hackers who were looking to get some exercise. The club considered itself exclusive. All players and employees had to wear all white. Not only that, everyone was on a first-name basis. A University President was known as Tom, and a Federal Judge was called George. No titles were allowed or acknowledged.
People would just show up. They didn’t need a partner; that is why people like me were on staff. When a solitary person walked through the door, one of us would grab our racquets and head out to the courts with them. It was a fun and interesting job.
One person who would often appear was a slightly built man with a pleasant smile and a gentle demeanor, a man I knew as Howard. He was a kind and generous soul. It wasn’t until years later that I saw him on TV and realized that he was the great Howard Zinn, author of A People’s History of the United States. Hey, that’s Howard! What is he doing on TV? Why is he marching with Martin Luther King? I sat flabbergasted as I wondered how stupid I had to be not to make the connection when I was standing across from him on the tennis court. Young and Kircher would have known who he was; I was oblivious. I regret not having put two and two together. And as my story goes, one day, I made a mistake, a tiny one, that makes me regret my time with him even more.
I feel strange even mentioning Howard’s ability as a tennis player. Who could possibly care? Is the fact that he wasn’t very talented with the racquet going to diminish his legacy? Of course not. There is nothing more irrelevant than his backhand. I have to bring it up, though. It is central to my story.
It was evident that Howard loved tennis. My guess is he was too busy to bother taking lessons to get any better. He just enjoyed playing. I like to think he got a kick playing me. I worked hard to put the ball in an easy place for him to return it. I didn’t make him run unnecessarily, and I certainly was rooting for him to win points when we played.
Now the hard part. I remember the very last time I played tennis with Howard. Unfortunately, I vividly remember the very last point of the match. I was serving to the ad side. I wanted to kick the ball to Howard’s forehand. I was trying to deliver the ball right to his wheelhouse. The best-laid plans…
If you know the game of tennis, you know different spins can be put on the ball to make it do various things. When serving, the margin for error is especially tight. An inch or so difference on where the ball is struck can result in vastly different behavior once the ball leaves the strings. I tossed the ball and missed my target by a tiny fraction. Instead of setting up at Howard’s waist, the ball skidded down the T for a clean ace. I felt like a jerk as I approached Howard at the net to shake his hand. I felt like an even bigger jerk when he slipped me $5, thanked me, and said goodbye.
I still think about the last time we played. Why? Because of that final point. The ball didn’t do what I wanted it to do, and I instantly regretted it. And yes, I felt even worse when I realized, years later, that Howard was Howard Zinn.
I never saw Howard again. He died in 2010 of a heart attack at age 87. When I heard about his death, I did some research. I was happy to find that many of the people writing about his life also mentioned his love of tennis. I hope that by writing this post, I have somehow squared things with Howard. My sincere wish is that he didn’t spend his last 30 years telling the story of a jerk tennis player who aced him just so he could tell the world about it. Wait…what have I done…oh no…Howard, I apologize.
