Issue 30—March 31, 1974 to May 9, 1974
This issue is only about half the size of most of the issues because Mary and I made a mistake in our discussion. As has been explained several times, Mary kept two diaries: one a daily diary which she would write in every night before going to bed (and which she called ‘the little book’), and the second diary was a much larger loose leaf binder she would use whenever she felt there was much more that needed to be recorded than she could fit into her ‘little book.’ This she called her ‘big book.’
As this discussion proceeded Mary was just reading out of her ‘little book’ assuming that these days were not covered in her ‘big book,’ and I did not think to ask her to check. However, as we discovered, this assumption was wrong. When we discovered this, she wanted to go back over all the dates we had covered in only ‘the little book’ and read out material for those dates from ‘the big book,’ as this material is much more complete.
These two versions of the dates, which were recorded in our discussion, have been edited together in this issue to give the reader the fullest possible account of what it was like for Mary to be in the presence of Krishnaji for those dates, but this resulted in discarding all the repetitions, and therefore, about half the material.
The Memoirs of Mary Zimbalist: Issue 30
Mary: Well, March thirty-first, 1974 ‘was a clear and beautiful day. Krishnaji gave a public discussion in LibbeyPark in Ojai. We were staying at the Lilliefelt’s.’
‘The Vigevenos and Casselberrys were in the audience. Afterward, Krishnaji saw Blackburn briefly and then the Mark Lees. Then Krishnaji, Kishbaugh, and I lunched. At 2:30 p.m., the Blaus, Ruth Tettemer, with Albion and Russell MacQuiddy came and we discussed the McCaskie land purchase and what to ask for in zoning change. It was decided that John Rex be the architect. The Blaus and MacQuiddy left, and the trustees discussed the school. Krishnaji brought up Mark Lee to head the school, and Ruth and Albion were rather hostile. They are committed to Barbara Lama and have perhaps gone too far in an unauthorized way of committing to her.’
‘In the early morning, seeing the beauty of the valley, I told Krishnaji that perhaps he put up with Rosalind and Rajagopal all those years because, in a way, they were minor to the other quality of life for him in a valley which he loved and found beautiful.’ It was his relationship with the hills, the mountains, and the look of the land. And, of course, in those years he spent so much time by himself climbing in the mountains and being alone…
M: …and it was as though that’s where he lived, and all the sordid quarreling and bickering and pettiness…
S: …and ugliness, yes…
M: …of it that went on in relation to and between the Rajagopals and both of them toward him, he just endured it. But what was real to him was whatever he experienced by himself in the mountains. If you remember what he said at the last in Ojai when he was too sick to see Pupul, he said to tell her he was off in the mountains. Well, I think that must have been what he did in those days. He went off in the mountains.
M: I remember that morning and the beauty of it, and the light and his total absorption in it, the sort of ecstatic delight he took in it.
When we got back to Malibu, Krishnaji said I was right.
S: Mm, hm.
M: So, the next day, April first, ‘we telephoned Mary about color photos in Brockwood. Too expensive, it says. But yes on expenses in Saanen for the Simmonses…’ it must have been a financial discussion ‘…and an increase for Yves Zlotnicka’s film. I was told by Mary Links about the photo in Sybille Bedford’s biography of Huxley.’ Sybille Bedford is an English writer, and she wrote a massive biography of Huxley, and there’s a photograph in it.
S: Of Krishnaji?
M: Of Krishnaji. ‘I spoke to Mitchell Booth in New York about material for Krishnaji’s visa status. Spoke to Alain Naudé about not going to Yosemite.’ Then I write in my diary about the awful mess, [chuckles] I guess we’ll have to reveal to posterity that a pack rat died in the wall in my bedroom [S chuckles], and the rest of the entry is about having to pull out the wall to get the dead pack rat out, so we don’t need to hear about that, but that’s what happened on that day. [Both chuckle.] ‘We got air tickets for New York and then London.’
The next day was the second of April, and ‘Erna said that Albion had written to Barbara Lama giving her the total directorship of the school.’ [Laughter.] That was a bit much. I’d forgotten that. ‘Krishnaji hit the roof, and we go to Ojai tomorrow to discuss all this.’
S: Was that his daughter, did you say, or…?
M: I think it was a stepdaughter, something like that. It wasn’t his own daughter. ‘Swami Venkatesananda and five followers came to see Krishnaji at 4 p.m.’ [much chuckling]. That always produced a sort of battle of Indian manners because the Swami would hurl himself at Krishnaji’s feet, and [with laughter in voice] Krishnaji would try to prevent it. And it always happened in doorways and awkward places [more laughter]. It caused quite a sort of confusion. Don’t remember what else happened, but I do remember that. It would happen to him at Brockwood, too.
On the third, ‘we drove in the Green Beauty to Ojai, on a most marvelous day. The country never looked lovelier. We lunched at the Lilliefelt’s and then with Ruth and Albion. Krishnaji went into the school matters, and he wants others to talk to Mark Lee, and possibly he and Barbara Lama could share the responsibilities. It turned out to be, in the end. a good meeting. We left at 4 p.m. and drove by Lake Casitas, came out on Highway 101 near Carpinteria and had to drive less than forty-five miles per hour all the way home’ [humor in voice] ‘to get there on a tank of gas.’ [S chuckles.]
The fourth ‘was a warm day. Sidney Field came to walk with Krishnaji, but Krishnaji had a sore calf from his jumping exercise.’ I don’t remember what his jumping exercise was for, but he was inclined to overdue his exercises. Dr. Parchure wasn’t there to control, so he had a sore calf.
The sixth seems to be concerned first with family matters. ‘Then the geologist came to evaluate the property slide. I cooked two pots of food, and Krishnaji and I drove in the Mercedes to Ojai and the Lilliefelt’s, taking the hot food. When we arrived, Krishnaji took a nap, and at 4:30 p.m. gave an interview to George Shedow. The Lilliefelts, Ruth, Albion saw Mark Lee and his wife yesterday and liked him. It was agreed that he should be the director of the school. We will discuss it tomorrow. We went for a walk up McAndrew Road and saw Ms. McGarrity.’ Ms. McGarrity was a little wisp of a woman who was obsessed with Krishnaji and she used to come out and stand endlessly by the bridge on McAndrew Road hoping that she’d catch sight of him going for a walk.
S: Good lord!
M: She was in her dotage by this time, and a little bit mad. Anyway, we saw Ms. McGarrity, who told Erna that Rosalind Rajagopal is moving out of Arya Vihar on May first.
On April seventh, a Sunday, Palm Sunday, it says here, ‘Krishnaji held the second public discussion in LibbeyPark on a lovely day. He spoke of intelligence, awareness, and then took questions. Kishbaugh taped it and lunched with Krishnaji and me. Ruth and Albion came afterwards and it was agreed by all that Mark Lee would be offered the directorship of the school, and Barbara Lama would be the assistant director. Mark and his wife Asha came at 3:30 p.m., and Krishnaji made the offer, which Mark accepted. David somebody, math teacher, who was at Malibu educational meeting…’
S: Would that be David Moody?
M: No, it said L-A…long word.
M: Anyway, ‘…who was at the Malibu educational meeting last month is coming too. And Krishnaji went into what the school should be about, and we’ll continue this on Tuesday and Thursday. We drove back to Malibu in time for supper.’
On the ninth, ‘we went back to Ojai in the Green Beauty, and there was a meeting about the school at the Lilliefelt’s. They, Ruth, Albion, Kishbaugh, Evelyne Blau, Mark and Asha Lee, David…’ whose last name begins with an L ‘…were there. Krishnaji said, “If the school is your baby, then you will make something of it.” He applied his irresistible force again. Most of the afternoon was taken up with the education center. We got home by 7 p.m. Each drove about halfway.’
On the tenth, ‘we were back in Malibu. We went to Kishbaugh’s shirt maker’ [chuckles], ‘using the Jaguar. Krishnaji was impressed by the care of the shirt maker and ordered four, using silks that Krishnaji brought from India. We came back along Mulholland Drive. Krishnaji was pleased with the outing.’
On April eleventh, ‘I telephoned Filomena in Rome for Easter, and invited her to Brockwood in June. She sounded well. I cooked till 11 a.m., when the same group as Tuesday came to discuss the school and have lunch. “The education center is to be a place where we are not a part of any idea, theory, or image,” said Krishnaji.’
On the twelfth, ‘Erna phoned to say that our offer on the forty acres in Ojai was rejected by the owner Mr. McCaskie. We offered $250,000 and they want $300,000. Louis Blau, our lawyer friend, and Russell MacQuiddy, a real estate man, are to consult on what to do next. I went over to see the Dunnes for an hour in the late afternoon. Krishnaji walked twelve times around the garden; his sore calf muscle is still tender. We had supper as usual on trays and watched “Washington Week in Review.” Then Krishnaji watched Ben-Hur on television. I came in several times to remind him it was getting late, and when I came in at 9:45 p.m., he was sitting with the sound turned off and a far-off look. He said, “Sit down quietly.” He looked as though something were happening—intent, listening, aware of something. I was unable to feel it, distracted by deskwork I had been doing away in my room, in avoidance of Ben-Hur.’ I didn’t want to see it. ‘Soon he left the living room and told me it had been extremely intense, a “precipitation,” something so strong in the room he had been prepared for it to become “manifest” in some further way “visible—I don’t know how. I’ve never felt it like this. Something is happening.” He said later that it continued when he was in bed so that he stayed wide awake and had to sit up. His head was bad.’
Click here to listen to Mary Zimbalist [NOTE: The audio below is not exactly the same as the text above. This is because, as discussed in the introduction to this issue, two accounts (from the “Big Book” and the “Little Book”) are presented here. Editing had to be done to avoid repetitions.]
The next day, ‘Krishnaji got up later than usual. The “thing” continues. He said to me, “You mustn’t be attached to me or anything.” He thought I had been upset by Ben-Hur last night. I said, “No, but that inevitably the picture was different for me to see” than for him, a story, a diversion for him; but to me, it is something that was too costly to Sam. It is not worth what it helped to do. I do not suffer seeing the movie, but there is nothing to make me want to watch it. I had finished the attachment in pain before coming to this life with Krishnaji. I am not “attached” anymore.’
Now, we jump to Tuesday, April sixteenth. ‘It was a lovely, clear morning. I was up early to wash my hair and finish packing. For once, I was all ready and relaxed at departure. Alan Kishbaugh drove us to the airport. Krishnaji and I took the noon TWA flight to New York, arriving at 8 p.m. We took a limousine that the porter rustled up into town and the RitzTower. There were yellow tulips from Bud and Lisa. I spoke to them, then made supper with a few things I had asked Joan Gordon to send ahead of time. We unpacked and went to bed.’
The next day was April seventeenth. ‘Krishnaji stayed in and rested all day. I went out to market, and had a room service lunch that was adequate.’ Well, then it lists all the things that I found: food. We don’t want to go on with that.
‘In the afternoon, I was back for a meeting with Mitchell Booth. He came to discuss Krishnaji’s visa for the United States. It got complicated this year because of my letter guaranteeing financial responsibility for him in which I also mentioned his public talks. This put him in the B-1 category of a business man, and hence the fuss. Booth explained that an H-1 status, which is for people of special distinction and unique abilities, might be had. Actors, dancers, etcetera coming to the U.S. to work for a short time and indispensable to whatever is being done, get it. With that status, no consul can refuse a visa. But it means cabling immigration each time, etcetera. As Krishnaji earns nothing here, Booth advised asking for an ordinary tourist visa each time and when announcing his talks in the Bulletin to phrase it “the KFA has requested Krishnamurti to speak in the U.S. He has graciously accepted to do so, etcetera.”’
The eighteenth. ‘Bud lent us his car for a drive so that Krishnaji and I could see Dr. Wolf in White Plains. As the trees are flowering and shrubs and new leaves are appearing, Krishnaji’s face lit up in that clear-as-a-child’s-delight look that is my own delight. Wolf examined him with care and says the spot in his throat is a thickening on the vocal chord and is not a tumor. His blood pressure is 110 over 69. His weepy eyes of blocked tear ducts are very common. Swelling in the ankles indicate a lessened circulation, as happens after flying, but he will know more after blood and urine test results. The tremor in his hands is not Parkinson’s, and he will know more after the tests. He is to continue to take two Wobenzym tablets twice a month, take 600 to 1000 units of vitamin E emulsion. He found Krishnaji generally very well. There is a small hemorrhage in the right eye but nothing serious, and a slight hardening of arteries.’
Friday, April nineteenth, ‘Krishnaji was quiet and stayed in all day. Erna and Theo arrived last night and came over this morning. The red tape of getting a school, etcetera, use permit for the forty acres in Ojai is endless. The uses we would make of the land may have to be restricted to a small school of young and mostly day students, plus an educational center where adults do not live but assemble in small groups. Krishnaji questioned each of us on whether we should proceed nevertheless, and Erna, Theo, and I said “yes.” Then only Krishnaji said he thought we must try to get it anyway. Erna had spoken of some attempt to get Arya Vihar land, but Krishnaji said Rosalind Rajagopal’s hostility to him and to all of us make it highly unlikely. “I cannot do it. I will not talk to Rosalind Rajagopal.” I then said I felt very much that we must start clean and create what Krishnaji wants without any strings, any beholdenest us to anything or anyone. It is contaminated by the Rajagopals. Theo agreed eagerly.’
Saturday, April twentieth. ‘It was Krishnaji’s first Carnegie Hall talk. We went in a car with a driver. The stage entrance had three police cars in front, and the entrance was full of police. A telephoned bomb threat had been made by a “man with an Indian accent” who said something—a bomb—was to go off when Krishnaji began to speak. All people with packages were being stopped. Krishnaji was unaware of all this. Gave an excellent talk. The only difficulty was the inadequacy of the sound system. It wasn’t until afterward that Erna told me what had happened, though the sight of the police made me guess. I didn’t speak of it to Krishnaji. I am often uneasy when he is front of a large, unknown audience. But as I thought about it all day and at night, there was a curious sense of hovering protection and reassurance. We had lunch in the apartment and later Krishnaji saw Mr. Riesco, who is to be the secretary of the Fundación, and then Louis Biascoechea, the son of Enrique.’
On the twenty-first, ‘the second Carnegie Hall talk went smoothly except for feeble sound system and many complaints. Afterward, while Krishnaji napped, at Ruth and Albion’s request I saw George Arden and his wife, would-be teachers, and well-meaning. Erna and Theo came in before they left, and Krishnaji popped up prematurely so they met him for one minute. Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I met John McGreevy of Canada Broadcasting Corporation and a Miss Pancher about Krishnaji doing a half hour for a series called In Person about serious people talking on matters of concern to them. It is tentatively set for the first week in October at Brockwood. Krishnaji talked to me about, “The necessity of living without shock and strain.” Erna told him about the bomb threat, but he brushed it aside and said “I must live at least another ten years.”
When Krishnaji woke up the next morning he said, ‘“marvelous meditation last night.”
I asked if it were the “new process” he was so full of in Malibu before we left. Yes, it was different. “I must find out what to do to live ten to fifteen years, there is so much to do.” Dr. Wolf gave a report of the tests. There is weakness; his adrenal is a little low in energy. The larynx are hard, healthy but a little weak. He also talked about the possible cause of Krishnaji’s swollen ankles. Prostate slightly enlarged. His enzyme level is 2.3, which is good. Wolf suggested a cellular implantation and Krishnaji agreed. In the afternoon, we went to a movie, Conversation about Surveillance.’ I don’t know what that was. ‘I felt shivery in the night.’
On the twenty-third, ‘I felt very weak, and could hardly stand in the shower. Narasimhan came at 8 a.m. to see Krishnaji. Then at 11:30 a.m., the Indian Don Moraes came with his young son and Leela Naidu for a taped question and answer meeting that will result in something printed in a UN publication, a book edited by Moraes. Mrs. Naidu spoke to Krishnaji afterward. After lunch, my cousin Lorna came to see me for an hour. I felt very weak but alright, with no other symptoms. I hope Krishnaji won’t catch anything from me. My cousin left and Krishnaji gave an interview to a young African-American man, Charles Steel. I slept after supper so hard all night that it was like being out cold.’
April twenty-fourth. ‘I felt better, though I had waves of weakness. We went to the Cooper-Hewitt, where Lisa lent a room in which Krishnaji met a group led by Adam Crane. Twelve of them asked questions. They taped it and are to give a copy of the tape transcript and a donation, plus they’re using the tape only for their own listening. This lasted one and three-quarter hours, and then we walked to my brother and Lisa’s for lunch. At 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji saw David Barry, who turned out to be not the man Krishnaji thought he knew, who also brought along his niece, a nineteen-year-old who wants to go Brockwood.’
April twenty-fifth, ‘Krishnaji and I drove in Bud’s car to Dr. Wolf in White Plains. Both had implantations, Krishnaji for the first time. Wolf swore it could have no adverse effect. We also received Wobenzym tablets for Krishnaji to use two or three per day for three weeks to remove the larynx thickening which, though benign, should be eliminated. After returning to the city, at 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji saw Frank McLaughlin, who taped a question and answer session for a magazine article, then Leela Naidu came for a second time.’
April twenty-sixth, ‘Krishnaji rested in the morning. I did errands, made lunch. At 4 p.m., we went to the movie Day of the Dolphin, which had an absurd plot but the dolphins were very winning, and Krishnaji, carried away, cried out in alarm for them. Then to me, “Oh, it’s a cinema!” as if he’d just remembered it.
The twenty-seventh of April. ‘Krishnaji’s third Carnegie Hall talk. They gave him a new microphone. It was better, but not good enough, or the hall is simply not suited to speech. After lunch I saw Mr. and Mrs. David Nortebaert, who want to move to Ojai to put their seven-year-old son in our school: nice, serious, and earnest. Krishnaji and I went for a short walk, bought books at Doubleday, including Mary L.’s novel Cleo.
The next day, ‘Krishnaji gave a fourth talk at Carnegie Hall on meditation and very fine. We took the Lilliefelts to lunch at Sun Luck East, the only restaurant we know of open on Sunday. Later, Bud brought Daisy, Lori, and Lindsay to see us.’ Those are his children. ‘Krishnaji was sweet to the children, but looked far away and sat quietly reading while Bud and Daisy hung a Japanese screen over the sofa.’
The twenty-ninth. ‘A hot day. I did some errands. Narasimhan came and drove us to his place for lunch with him and his wife. She watches silently without a smile or word. Narasimhan dropped us at Caswell-Massey where we laid in a supply of pedigreed cucumbers!’ [M and S laugh.] I’d forgotten about pedigree cucumbers.
S: Tell us about it.
M: It’s a cream that supposed to be good for the skin, and they advertise that it’s only made from pedigreed cucumbers. [S laughs.] It was sort of a joke for us, but he always said we should have some pedigreed cucumbers. [S laughs.] Then, ‘we walked to the Belgian shoe store, where it was verified that the brown suede moccasins that Krishnaji wears are a size 7 AA. Then across the street to a barber, where Krishnaji had another excellent haircut. Al Bruku, the barber, is the best he has been to. To the hotel and packing. My brother came while we were having supper and sat with us for a while and said goodbye. Later we watched Nixon on television announce he was releasing some transcriptions of some tapes tomorrow.’
Tuesday, the thirtieth. ‘A car that was to fetch the Lilliefelts then us to go to the airport together never turned up in time. So, they and we went separately to our separate noon flights. We took American Airlines, and Krishnaji was pleased by a quieter atmosphere and space in front in the new first class seats. He didn’t care to watch the movie, The Way We Were, Barbara Streisand and Robert Redford. We landed at 2:40 p.m. in Los Angeles, a lovely afternoon. We both felt immediately better away from New York, back in California, and home in Malibu. Everything looked green and beautiful, clean and peaceful. Elfriede had done the rose garden as a present, with Lori’s help.’ Lori was the gardener. ‘It looks very nice. It is wonderful to be here. We kept feeling it. The pains and swelling in my foot and leg disappeared on arrival. Krishnaji said he had felt “far away” on Sunday, and cautioned me about using a personal term in speaking to him at such times. We went to bed early, and each slept deeply and well.’
S: Explain that a little bit.
M: I’m trying to remember.
S: Your using a personal term to him?
M: I don’t know what personal term to him. I didn’t speak differently to him.
S: But, for instance, if he was far away, and you said “Krishnaji”…
M: It may be.
S: …would that have been like a shock to him.
M: It could be because, yes, it could be, because when he was far away, anything…
S: He doesn’t exist in that sense…
S: …and maybe calling attention to the fact that…
M: Something like that. I don’t remember.
M: May first. ‘It was lovely to wake up at home. In the evening Krishnaji and I watched a CBS program on the Nixon tape transcripts with Cronkite, Sevareid, Dan Rather; the utter sordidness of the Nixon world.’
On May second, ‘I did letters in the morning. In afternoon, we went to fetch special license places, KMN1—Krishna, Maria, Nitya—for the Mercedes, and to Lindberg’s. I spoke to Alain Naudé in San Francisco; he hopes to get a job in Stanford research. Today there is supposed to be a meeting between Christensen and what Krishnaji calls the “mafiosi,” Rajagopal and company, on their response to the settlement draft.’
On the fourth of May, ‘Krishnaji said, “I think I will live another ten years. There is so much to be done.” We spoke of perhaps less travel and talk and more time in centers. Erna telephoned. No news from the lawyers, and the McCaskey forty acres we offered to buy went to someone else, who offered $285,000 cash and no conditions. They want it for agriculture. The Lilliefelts are very disappointed. I told Krishnaji, who said, “That’s too bad. Well, that is that.” He had me ask all trustees here Tuesday to discuss what we should do. He kept saying to me as we walked around the garden “You mustn’t be disappointed or depressed.” So we went to a movie, The Sting. “What is it about?” Krishnaji kept saying, and I really couldn’t make out much of it much of the time.’ [Laughter.] He was quite funny in movie houses. He would speak up and ask me questions, not realizing there were people around. [S laughs, then M chuckles.]
On May seventh, ‘All KFA trustees met here at 11 a.m., and stayed for lunch. Krishnaji asked, “What is it that is blocking us, losing us the forty acres, etcetera? Everywhere else—Brockwood Park, India, etcetera, it is going ahead, but here we seem to be blocked.” He said we have put too much dependence and hence strings to Rajagopal and Rosalind, the outcome of the case, getting KWINC or HappyValley land. We must go ahead without that. The Lilliefelts will comb Ojai for other land. He went into why Ojai. The pro reasons are his affection for it, the feeling that it was meant to be, the trustees are living there. Erna pointed to my feeling about the HappyValley land, an area poisoned by the Rajagopals and that we should start anew and clean on our own. Krishnaji spoke of a center where he would spend more time. Also, we’ve had no response from Christensen. I telephoned Cohen for all of us and said that we are all together and felt that if there was not some response in the next few days that he should sum up these events to Judge Heaton, ask for a hearing to set a trial date. I said the same to Sol Rosenthal.
S: Alright. It should be said that nothing; not the biographies, not Erna’s account of the trial, nothing has really given a sense of the Rajagopal mess as much as these interviews with you have—the attrition, the wearing away, the back and forth, the continual changing of his mind, the very irrational behavior on his part, and the way it must have been affecting everybody—the weighing down of everybody. And here Krishnaji is saying, look, you’re focusing too much on this; put this aside. Let the lawyers deal with it…we’re not giving proper attention and functioning effectively in the other things that we have to do.
M: He said at one point, “Do we want to go on forever with this thing? Aren’t you sick of it?” I forget when it was, but it was at some time.
S: In a way, it’s interesting, because in a way, Rajagopal’s war of attrition worked.
M: It worked. He was crazy like a fox, as they say.
S: Yes, yes.
M: It suited his purpose to wear everybody down, and it didn’t matter how mad…
S: And it didn’t matter the cost either, because it was all being paid for out of the money he had stolen anyway from Krishnaji, so whatever money he spent is just money he wouldn’t have to give back.
M: Yes, yes. Exactly.
S: So, it worked.
M: Yes. It worked, it worked.
S: That’s incredible.
S: There just isn’t anything that gives the feeling of this unfortunate “thing” like this account does.
M: Yes, it goes on in the little book, which is like shorthand without completed sentences, and it’s like a shorthand in which the symptom of this attrition keep coming up and up and up.
S: Yes, I think it’s important that everybody gets a feeling of the way this thing was going.
M: Yes, if you listed the events over a period of what seventeen years, this damn thing went on, it would be…
S: That’s extraordinary.
M: Or, if you made it a little like a temperature graph, you know: hopes there will be a settlement, then BANG! It, ah…
S: Yes, yes, it crashes.
M: …or you’re going to have a meeting…
S: …and he doesn’t show up.
M: …and he doesn’t show up, or he’s sick, or he can’t leave Ojai. Nobody ever said why he can’t leave Ojai, but he can’t leave Ojai. It’s always something. Nobody else would think of making such excuses. They were so petty, but that’s the way he was adamant about…
S: Like Bleak House…Do you know that novel? [Both chuckle.]
Okay, so where are we?
M: Well, also on May seventh, ‘I tried to reach Dr. Alan Anderson, who hasn’t signed the release for the videotapes. We suggest Sidney Roth has muddled it in his fussy way.’ Do I have to explain that?
M: I have explained about Sidney Roth.
S: A little.
M: Well, he was the man from Chicago who suddenly learned about Krishnamurti’s teachings and was interested, and he had joined us in the suit against Rajagopal.
S: I remember that part now.
M: …yes, because he had donated.
S: Yes, that’s right.
M: And we needed a…
S: A donor whose donations were misappropriated.
M: Exactly. That was Sidney Roth. He also agreed to pay for the taping of the Anderson tapes. He subsidized that.
S: But what was his fussy way?
M: He was a fussy sort of man. ‘I couldn’t reach Anderson.’
‘The trustees went off determined to find better land than the forty acres. Krishnaji filled them with resolve and energy as he always does.’
May eighth, ‘Mrs. Alan Anderson telephoned on her husband’s behalf about the release of the videotapes. I spoke later to Rosenthal about it.’ I don’t remember what was said, but anyway, it turned out alright.
On the ninth, ‘we did some shopping in Beverly Hills. He needed a bathrobe, and then we went to the shirt maker in the valley, where Krishnaji had a first fitting on the shirts that we mentioned earlier.’
S: Okay, I think we have to end it there because we’re running out of tape.