The Three Christs of Ypsilanti (17 page)

Meeting report by Joseph Cassel:

Meeting. Joseph tells about being with Miss Miller outdoors. A policeman, he says, came by and told them to move, but Miss Miller showed the policeman Dr. Yoder's note and the fellow went right off. Joseph says: “I hate to see her go. She's going back to North Carolina.”

The men talk about Decoration Day. Joseph says he supposes there won't be any more wars. To this Leon responds: “There's a war going on all the time. ‘Evil ideal' versus the truth. War is the outcome of the ‘evil ideal.' ”

—
Will this war ever end?
—

“It will,” Leon says.

—
When?
—

“It will take as long as it will, sir. And then it will be peaceful unto eternity.”

I ask whether Leon's war against the “evil ideal” and Joseph's war against the gunshots are the same war. Leon rejects the idea, and Joseph tries to change the subject. “If I say anything, Rex will say, ‘That's your belief,' or something like that.”

“All day Sunday, you wait for visitors and none of them come. As for me,” Joseph says, “I'm goddam glad this is Monday.”

I
N THE SECOND
month of the study we decided to change the conditions of the daily group meetings. After several weeks of incessant conflict over their claims to the same identity, the three delusional Christs seemed as firmly entrenched in their beliefs as ever. While it was clear that the daily confrontations had had several effects on the behavior of the three men, primarily of a tension-producing character, the only change in delusions had occurred when Leon, after his altercation with Clyde, changed his belief that Adam was a Negro. During these early weeks, the leadership of the daily sessions had been in our hands: we decided what topics to bring up; we guided the discussions; we led the exchanges back to the identity issue. In this way we were able to obtain various kinds of information about the three Christs: about their backgrounds, their characters, their attitudes toward many things, and their characteristic modes of reaction and defense. But we appeared to have reached a point of diminishing returns; it seemed that little more would be learned or gained if the daily meetings continued in this way.

The new plan, therefore, was to relinquish the control of the sessions, at least to some degree, to the three men themselves. Each of them was, in his turn, to become chairman of the day, to have the responsibility for calling the men together for the meeting, and to choose the topic of discussion. To make the meetings even
more rewarding, the chairman was to pass out ready-made cigarettes, which we supplied—the men themselves could not afford them—and to hold onto money (a small weekly allowance) for several days, until Store Day on Fridays. An integral part of the plan was to encourage co-operation and friendly interaction among the three as far as we could, given their basically withdrawn states. As the plan evolved during the next few weeks, we suggested that they open and close each meeting with a song, that they sing during the meeting, that they read to one another, that they meet on weekends without the research personnel, and that they write reports of these meetings.

To what extent, we wondered, would they be willing and able to conduct the meetings under more autonomous conditions? What topics would they choose to talk about and what topics would they avoid? Would the subject of identity come up spontaneously and, if so, how would it be resolved? Left more to their own devices, could they learn to live in peace with one another despite the fundamental issue that divided them? Could they forge themselves into a more cohesive group, that is, a group with common goals in which each person became instrumental to the achievement of the ends all shared?[
1
] Under such conditions, would the three men learn to be more friendly toward one another and to identify with one another to a greater degree? And if they did, would such changes in atmosphere and mutual gratifications lead to further changes in behavior or even changes in their delusions?

Thus, on the twenty-fourth of August, about eight weeks after the initial encounter, I announced that there were to be certain changes in the conduct of the meetings, that today one of the three men was to serve as chairman, sit in an especially designated chairman's chair, and take responsibility for the conduct of the meeting. Joseph was the most enthusiastic of the three.

“Give it to me. I'll take care of it,” he said.

I suggested, however, that the chairman should be elected according to parliamentary procedure.

“Truth is the chairman,” Leon asserted.

Clyde nominated the research assistant.

When Joseph persisted in wanting the job, Leon said: “I nominate Joseph on Joseph's request.”

The three men voted and Joseph was unanimously elected. He stood up with a happy expression and delivered his acceptance speech. “Thank you, gentlemen, for naming me chairman.” I then suggested that Joseph assume the chairman's role at once.

Leon turned to Joseph and said: “What do you suggest, sir?”

“I suggest a discussion of crusades for peace,” Joseph answered. “Say, Rex, do you think this New World has been doing anything for peace?”

“I have, sure—engineering,” Clyde said.

“To me, peace means ideology in the heart,” Leon stated.

And Joseph put in: “Many, many women should write to the President and Congressmen telling them they have been doing a good job so far, asking them to continue working toward peace. They should write to newspapers too. Their propaganda influences the country. After the women write, the men can do likewise. An army of civilians, men, women and children, should walk to Washington.”

“Charity is the best form of government,” Leon said.

“Not everyone wants charity,” Joseph countered.

“There is charity based on self-dignity where one can give and accept for the common good,” Leon said. “There should be no coercion, no persuasion.”

“In this country there are individuals who would never kneel down for prayers,” Joseph said.

“How do you know that he doesn't pray in his heart?” Leon asked.

“Just because he doesn't kneel down for prayers,” Joseph answered. “Nevertheless he's entitled to a job.”

The discussion proceeded in a friendly way for quite a while
between Joseph and Leon. Throughout, Clyde mumbled to himself. At the end of the session Leon said that religion and politics don't mix, and Joseph replied that the Jesuits are so powerful that they run the government, which ought not be allowed.

Next day Leon was chairman, much to the disappointment of Joseph, who had hoped he would be made permanent chairman. Leon made a great effort to outdo Joseph in his conduct of the meeting. He raised various topics for discussion—Communism, socialism, capitalism, movies, government. Of special interest to us, in view of the chronic schizophrenic's typical self-centeredness and inability to concern himself with the feelings of others, was that Leon apologized to Clyde; he didn't mean to be rude to him, he said, or to leave him out of the discussion. Clyde, of course, did not understand what it was all about, or at least appeared not to. Leon went on to propose that taxation be eliminated, as it was in Rome, and also that the government be given control of water rights and mineral deposits. He then asked Joseph what he thought of this idea, to which Joseph replied that he didn't think much of it. Leon accused Joseph of being a capitalist, and Joseph defended himself by saying that Leon's plan could only lead to the decline of the country. Leon then retreated—to the position that the cosmic image robot should control economic policies, and that the biggest officials in the country should be made aware of the welfare of the poor. Shortly afterward, Leon suggested they adjourn.

The next day it was Clyde's turn to chair the meeting. He said he did not want to be chairman, that he was not used to holding office, and that he would rather talk when he felt like it. Nevertheless, he called the men together for the meeting. He was not really able to play the chairman's role effectively, but Joseph and Leon tolerated and indulged the “old man,” and the meeting somehow proceeded with him in the chair. The discussions, however, were primarily between Joseph and Leon.

The following day things did not proceed so smoothly. Joseph was chairman again. I went into the ward to tell him it was his job
to round up the others for the meeting. He agreed, but said that he first had to go to the toilet. He stayed there for quite a while and when he came out he approached two
other
patients, rather than Clyde and Leon, and informed them it was time for the meeting. Then he approached still a third patient and asked him, too, to come along. All of this, of course, indicated extreme confusion on Joseph's part. But the meeting, once under way, with the proper people participating, proceeded smoothly and Joseph did not repeat this bizarre behavior. When subsequently he was asked why he had rounded up those other fellows, he replied that it was just an intuition. I asked him if he felt silly about it. Joseph replied that he never felt silly, and that he never committed himself.

In the following weeks and months the pattern of the rotating chairmanship became well established, and far more easily than we had dared anticipate. It eventually became routine, or more accurately, stereotyped, and it continued so for some two years. Joseph became custodian of the Chairman List, a sheet dated and signed every day by the chairman-of-the-day. In this way the men had no difficulty keeping track of whose turn was next, and each jealously guarded his rights and allowed no deviation from the schedule.

The meeting typically opened and closed with a song. The pattern of singing became established one day early in October, when Joseph brought a songbook to the meeting. During the session, while Joseph was reading
America
, he and Leon spontaneously began singing it. As they did, both stood up, and Clyde joined them. From that day on, the men sang various songs from the songbook.

At first Clyde had some difficulty reading the small print in the songbook. Leon noticed this, and the next day, as they were about to sing, he extracted from his pocket a piece of paper on which he had copied
America
in large print. With Leon in the middle and Clyde and Joseph standing close on either side of him—barbershop style—they sang
America
.

During the first two months the songs varied—
The Star-Spangled Banner, America, Onward Christian Soldiers, Glory, Glory Halleluja
, read from songbooks—but soon an “official” song was established. The meeting would open and close with the first verse of
America
(England's song, Joseph said). The format remained the same, no matter who was chairman, and suggestions from us to vary the song were of no avail.[
2
] It should be mentioned, however, that Leon objected immediately to certain words and phrases in
America
and altered them to fit his delusional system. He did not believe in “pride,” so “Pilgrim's pride” became “Pilgrim's stride”; and for “Land where my fathers died” Leon substituted “Land where I died the death.” And this is the way he sang
America
henceforth.

One meeting in the middle of November was particularly memorable. The three men sang many songs. Joseph whistled, conducted, danced, and sang. Leon asked Clyde if he would play a tune on his harmonica. Clyde pulled the harmonica out of his pocket and played while Joseph danced. When Clyde finished, they all applauded heartily. Then Joseph borrowed Clyde's harmonica and played a tune. They ended by singing
America
.

During the meetings Joseph and Leon spent a great deal of time poring over a large atlas Joseph had obtained somewhere. The two of them huddled over the maps, looking up, for example, the countries that border on Roumania, Alaska, and so on. There was not much actual discussion but they were physically very close, and they were co-operating toward a common goal.

At one of the sessions Leon got up on three separate occasions to light Clyde's pipe. During that same meeting he read a poem by Robert Burns, affecting a rather good Scottish burr. Clyde looked at Leon, his eyes squinting in a smile of approval. Joseph, crossing the room, took the book from Leon, who was in the middle of another poem. “Here, give it to me, I'll do justice to
it.” Leon smiled, protested weakly, and gave the book to Joseph. Joseph read a poem, not as entertainingly as Leon, and handed the book back, saying: “There! That just goes to show you what good English is!” This kind of give-and-take went on throughout the meeting. Then, as I was putting away the tape recorder, with Leon bending over to help, Joseph “goosed” him. Leon, straightening up with a jerk, said: “Sir, what did you do that for? I didn't deserve that. If I were R-r-robbie Bur-r-rns I'd speak in a much louder voice.” He said this in a quiet tone of pretended offense, but was not able to conceal his amusement. Joseph, smirking, replied: “I wanted to get my Scotch accent back.” As they left the room, Joseph said: “Well, we had a good poetry reading tonight.”

During the last two months of 1959 we were to observe many other instances of increasing camaraderie. For example, Leon often complimented Joseph on his ability to read French, and began to call him Joey. Leon offered his own cigarettes to the others and to us. Once Joseph, using a lorgnette, read to Clyde and Leon from a play; he would look up as he finished each piece of dialogue as if to assess his impact on the audience. Throughout, Clyde whispered good-humoredly, and Leon smiled.