A Summer in Iowa

Part 7 — A Change of Plans

Friday, April 14, 1972

I’d been on pins and needles for the past two weeks. Tomorrow, I’d celebrate my sixteenth birthday. Sweet sixteen. I was nearly a man, but my birthday was the farthest thing from my mind. The acceptance letters were supposed to go out the first week in April, but exactly when during the week was never stated. Mail, whether from across town or across the country, typically took a week, so today was the last day I expected to receive my letter, be it an acceptance, conditional acceptance or rejection. If there was nothing from Iowa waiting for me when I got home, I’d be beside myself.

Getting off the school bus a few doors down from my house, I walked to the mailbox and had to hold onto it to steady myself. Nervously, I opened it and retrieved the contents. The day’s mail mostly consisted of junk: political advertisements, a couple of catalogues and a mailing from Publisher’s Clearing House. There were several birthday cards and there was a large thick envelope from the University of Iowa.

Holy crap! Thick had to be good, didn’t it? A rejection letter would fit in a standard envelope. I almost tore the envelope open right there, on the street, but thought better of it. Instead, I sprinted to the front door, fumbled with my keys and went inside. I sat at the kitchen table and deftly opened the envelope. Inside was a whole package of materials, which I slid out of the envelope. On top was a letter, and I began to read:

Wow! I was in, but not to the program I’d wanted. However, the research track sounded like it might be better for me. I’ve always done better in independent study courses than with traditional classroom instruction, and I’d get some research experience too. It was a lot to digest.

Putting the letter aside, directly underneath was a list of all the projects available in the research track. There were twenty pages, each listing four projects. For each listing, there was a project name, a brief description, the project director’s name, the name and phone number of a contact person and the number of students that could be accommodated. More than half of the listings had been crossed out. Undoubtedly, those were already full. The number of slots available for each was also marked out and lowered for several, perhaps reflecting the number of students who’d already signed up. Most projects only had room for one student anyway.

I noticed that someone had gone to the trouble of starring those projects that were of particular relevance to the field of computer science. I thought it was nice of them to do that. Focusing on just those projects — there were only six of them — I realized that if I didn’t act quickly, I might be left without options.

Reading each of them, there was one in particular that stood out. Titled, ‘Feasibility of computer use by students to solve everyday problems,’ it was directed by Samuel P. Ellis, Ph.D., who was the chairman of the Electrical Engineering department. How cool. I noted that Dr. Ellis was also listed as the contact person, which meant he’d be playing a hands-on role. The gist of the project was that the student would be given a series of ten problems that could be solved using a computer. I would be expected to learn a programming language, to write computer programs to solve the problems and to come up with metrics to gauge success.

Dr. Ellis’s project sounded like exactly what I was looking for — a way to learn basic computer programming skills through their application. It was not unlike what I did at Butler on Saturdays. At the same time, I’d gain some research experience. It was highly likely I’d be able to use the five credit hours to satisfy the requirements for a first-semester programming course if not more, no matter where I went or what field I chose to pursue. But there was room for only one student!

Noting the time and remembering there was a one-hour time difference, I dialed the number given for Dr. Ellis’s office. I’d probably catch hell from Mom, making a long distance call during business hours when rates were at their highest. As far as I was concerned, there was no other choice. It wasn’t worth taking a chance that someone else would sign up for the project before I did.

“Electrical Engineering,” a young-sounding female voice answered after only one ring.

“Is Professor Ellis in?” I asked.

“May I ask who’s calling,” she responded.

“It’s Jeff Lindsey, one of the applicants for the summer SSTP session. I’m interested in Dr. Ellis’s research project and wondered if he’d have a few minutes to discuss it with me.”

“Let me check,” she replied. It was only a moment before she came back on the line and asked, “Jeff, is there a number where he can call you back? It’ll be a just a few minutes.”

Curious as to why he didn’t just ask me to stay on the line, I gave her my home phone number. I expected it might be some time before Dr. Ellis returned the call, but only moments after I hung up, the phone was ringing. There was no way to know if it was him, but I was hopeful.

Picking up the phone, I answered, “Lindsey residence. This is Jeff Lindsey.”

“Jeff, this is Sam Ellis. I figured you were probably calling long distance and there’s no reason the Iowa taxpayers shouldn’t pick up the tab for the call. I take it you’re calling about the research project this summer?”

“Yes, Professor Ellis. I appreciate you calling me back,” I replied. “I’ll probably get enough flak as it is from my mom when she gets the phone bill. Thanks for being so thoughtful. I have a lot of questions I’d like to ask you.”

“I’m glad you called, but there’s no reason to get your mother upset. The University uses a low-cost third-party long-distance carrier. If you need to reach me going forward, just call me collect and I’ll know to call you back.

“So Jeff, I read your application materials and I was impressed by what you’ve accomplished. I think you’d be a good match for the project, and I think the project would work well in your plans. If you need some time to consider other projects or wish to think about it, I’ll hold the slot open over the weekend, so you won’t need to commit until Monday.”

Wow, he’d actually read my application, even though he didn’t know if I was remotely interested in his project. Someone must have brought me to his attention, which was pretty incredible when I thought about it. I replied, “That’s very kind of you. The project calls for me to learn a programming language and use it to address a series of problems. That’s a pretty vague agenda. Could you elaborate on that a bit?”

“Of course, Jeff,” he replied. “Actually, I have something specific in mind. This would be my first SSTP project out of what I hope will be many, and for this one I’d like to stick to something that’s tried and true, but incredibly exasperating. We have an IBM 360 mainframe that’s considered state-of-the-art, but already it’s seen as an aging platform, even though it’s not that old. The IBM 370 runs rings around it, but the university can’t afford to replace a multi-million dollar machine that’s not even five years old.

“The most common programming language used in engineering is Fortran, which stands for formula translation. There are some much better languages on the horizon, such as Algol and Bell Labs’ C programming language, on which the Unix operating system is built, but it will probably be at least another ten or twenty years before they displace the widespread use of Fortran.

“Fortran is easy to learn, it’s very powerful and it’s well-behaved in a multiuser environment. On the down side, it uses fixed memory allocation and it doesn’t support recursion. I know you probably don’t understand those terms yet and we’ll be exploring them as part of your training. The bottom line is that programming the IBM 360 in Fortran involves writing programs, punching them, line by line, into punched cards, submitting them to the systems desk, waiting an hour or so and then retrieving your cards and printout before you can even find out if you made a mistake and that the program didn’t even compile, let alone run. It’s a tedious, frustrating process.

“Our engineering students program in something called Basic, which is a trimmed-down language very similar to Fortran. Basic can be run in realtime via a teletype, giving you immediate feedback, but it has no application in the real world. I’m not sure we’re doing our students any favors teaching them Basic when they’ll still have to use Fortran when working in industry.

“Clearly, the punched card’s days are numbered, especially with minicomputers coming out from the likes of the Digital Equipment Corporation that are smaller, faster and cheaper, but we’re not there yet. You’ll be my guinea pig, experimenting with the tried an true before we explore newer alternatives.”

“What sort of problems will I be solving?” I asked.

“We’ll start with something simple, like calculating the value of π to 100 places, and make our way up to things like calculating Fourier transforms of triangle and square waves. The Fourier transform is a powerful tool in signal theory, and the formula’s quite simple, but writing an efficient algorithm that works in all cases is a challenge.”

“Sounds like fun,” I responded, and I meant it.

“Oh, it will be,” Dr. Ellis assured me. “Do you have any other questions?” he asked.

“What do I need to do to sign up?” I asked.

“Are you certain you want to tackle this project?” He asked in return. “I can hold the position until Monday if you’d like some time to explore other projects.”

“No, I agree with you,” I replied. “This project would be a good fit for me. I feel confident about that.”

“Then consider the project yours. Just be sure to get the paperwork in on time, and I’ll see you when you arrive.”

“Is there anything I could read in the meantime, like when I’m not busy writing term papers, studying for finals or preparing for the Drama Club’s spring play?” I asked.

“Since you have nothing else important going on,” he joked, “you might want to check out a book on Fortran Four programming. That’ll save you a little time in having to learn the syntax when you arrive here. For fun, I’d suggest you pick up volumes one and two of Donald E. Knuth’s The Art of Computer Programming. Volume 3 isn’t coming out until next year. Knuth is spelled K-n-u-t-h, by the way. He’s only 34, but already he’s a god in the computer science field. His books are surprisingly easy to read and they’ll give you a feel for how computer programmers write the programs used by other computer programmers to write computer programs. Try saying that four times in a row.

“If you want to be more daring, look up the Fourier transform in a book on signal theory and see if you can derive the transforms of triangle and square waves on your own. Those are common waveforms that have published solutions. When you’re futzing around at Butler, you can even use a signal generator and a spectrum analyzer to verify the results. Then you’ll have a basis for comparison when you try writing a program to do the same thing on a computer.”

“Thanks so much, Professor Ellis,” I responded. “I’ll see you in June, if we don’t talk before then.”

“I’ll be in touch,” he replied. “Have a good weekend.”

“You too,” I responded, and then I disconnected the call.

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Since there still was a little time before Mom got home, I prepared a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and poured myself a glass of milk. Sitting back down, I began to read the matriculation packet from the University of Iowa. I was surprised to realize it was the same packet they sent to incoming freshman. Apparently, I was going to be registered as a University of Iowa student. Cool, but there was a shitload of paperwork to fill out. I started reading:

The University of Iowa is located in Iowa City, which was the original state capital, before it was moved to Des Moines. The capitol building is a national historic landmark that sits at he center of a five-building complex known as the Pentangle.

Pentangle? I guess it couldn’t be a called a pentagon, since it only had four sides. It was essentially a quadrangle with the addition of the capitol building in the center. I continued reading:

The Pentangle serves as the hub of the university and houses the primary administrative offices, as well as a nationally renowned museum. Iowa City is bisected by the Iowa River. There are university buildings on both sides of the river… Parking is very limited on campus and all student parking is off campus. Most university buildings are within a half hour walk of each other, making the campus easily accessible on foot. Bike racks are available around all university buildings, but the university accepts no liability for theft or vandalism

It didn’t sound like there was any point to bringing my car and I’d hafta think carefully about whether or not to bring my bike. I read on:

Health insurance is provided to all registered students via the Student Health Center, located within the medical center complex…

Forms were enclosed for me to report my medical history, medications I was taking and allergies. Because I’d need allergy shots while there, I’d have to have my doctor and my allergist send reports in advance of my stay. I’d also have to bring my own allergy serum with me for the allergy shots too. How strange.

A residence hall preference form was included, but it was already filled in to indicate I’d be staying in the Rienow II residence hall. There were numerous preference options I could choose regarding room selection and pairing with a roommate. However, I was disappointed there was nothing stated about smoking. Since I hated the smell of cigarette smoke and considered myself allergic, I would have to write that in and hope for the best.

Rienow I and Rienow II were twin high rise towers, each with fourteen floors and located on opposite sides of Grand Avenue, which was a main thoroughfare. An underground passageway connected the two buildings, as well as the much older Quadrangle residence hall, located behind Rienow I.

A lounge with a TV was located on each floor, as was a basic kitchen with standard appliances. Students could bring their own TV, stereo or small refrigerator, but hot plates, stoves and any devices with an open flame were strictly prohibited. Communal bathroom and shower facilities were located on each floor. A laundry facility was located in the basement. Students were responsible for providing their own laundry detergent.

Each dorm room contained a small vanity with a sink and mirror. Furniture provided for each student included a bed, nightstand, dresser, wardrobe and small desk. Students were responsible for providing their own pillows, sheets, blankets, towels, soap and toiletries. The buildings were coed, but floors were segregated by sex.

Meals would be provided for breakfast, lunch and dinner on weekdays and for a breakfast or brunch on the weekends. Students could otherwise eat at the many nearby restaurants, or prepare their own meals in the dorm kitchens. Meal eligibility would be indicated on our student ID cards, which could be worn as a badge. Alcohol was strictly prohibited in any campus dorm facility. Drug use, including marijuana, was grounds for expulsion.

A separate information sheet was included regarding the SSTP. We had our own set of rules. It seemed that all boys were being housed on the third and fourth floors of Rienow II. The girls were being housed in Burge Hall, on the other side of the river. Talk about keeping us apart! All meals would be served in either the Quadrangle Residence Hall Cafeteria for the boys, or the Burge Cafeteria for the girls. Upon request, lunch could be switched to the Quadrangle or Burge cafeterias, depending on classroom and lab assignments. However, the switch would be noted on our ID and could not be changed.

Regular activities, both educational and social, would be scheduled for many evenings and on most weekends. Weekly Wednesday evening seminars and Saturday morning symposia were mandatory. Since I was in the research track, I imagined I’d be spending many late and weekend hours in the computer lab or wherever I’d be working, so I was gonna be busy.

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I was in the midst of filling out some of the paperwork when the sound of the garage door opening alerted me that Mom was home. I greeted her at the door and immediately, she said, “Someone looks happy.”

“Is it that obvious?” I asked.

“In a word, yes,” she replied. Then noticing the papers strewn all over the table, she asked, “I take it you were accepted into the SSTP?”

“I was,” I replied, “but there’s a catch. There weren’t enough participants to have the Computer Science Track this year, so they had to cancel it.”

“Oh honey, you were looking forward to it so much, but then why are you still so happy?” She asked.

“Because it turns out I’ll be able to get the same computer science education in the Research Track. I can have one-on-one instruction and study most of the material on my own, just like I do with Dr. Dixon at Butler. I’ll still be able to apply the college credit to the computer programming requirement I’ll face almost anywhere I go to college.

“In addition, I’ll get training in the conduct of research. That’s important and it’ll look good on my resumé. I’ll learn how to ask a research question, how to design experiments to answer that question and how to analyze and present the results.”

“You’ve been doing research at Butler,” Mom pointed out.

“I do experiments at Butler. Dr. Dixon gives me and another kid an experiment to do to demonstrate a principle of physics. Before we even start, he knows what the outcome will be. It’s meant to further our education. The same thing’s true of he chemistry lab at North Central, with Mr. Franklin.”

“Speaking of Mr. Franklin, he’s taking us out for dinner and to see The Godfather tomorrow night, for your birthday.” I’d completely forgotten about my birthday, but then it hit me. Mr. Franklin was taking me and my mom out for my birthday?

I was shocked, and not just because he was one of my teachers. It wasn’t lost on me that Mom and Mr. Franklin really hit it off, so I was more amused than surprised when he asked my mom out on a date just a week after they met. They’d been on two more dates since. I was just getting used to the idea of my mom dating again, let alone dating one of my teachers, but taking me out for my birthday was a whole other matter. It made the relationship between Mr. Franklin and my mom seem a whole lot more serious.

“I know you’ve been distracted,” Mom went on, “and you haven’t had the time to make plans for a party with your friends. When Tom called to ask me out tomorrow to see the movie, I told him it was your birthday and that I couldn’t go out tomorrow night. He asked if you had plans for your birthday, and I told him you didn’t, so he suggested that we take you out instead.”

“Wait a minute,” I said as it dawned on me, “you’re gonna take me to see an R-rated movie? I thought you weren’t even gonna let me see The Godfather.”

“I wasn’t. I thought you’re too young, but Tom pointed out that you’re going to be going away to college for the summer, and next year you’ll be leaving home for good. He said that if I didn’t trust you now, how would you ever learn to make good choices when you were out on your own. He has a valid point.”

“Wow, that was unexpected,” I replied. “So where’s he taking us for dinner?” I asked.

“La Tour…” Mom answered. Holy shit! La Tour was a fancy French restaurant, located on the top floor of the Indiana National Bank Tower, the tallest building in Indianapolis. La Tour was about as fancy as dining gets in our humble city, but it’s expensive, and downtown, and we’d be going there on a Saturday night. What would I even wear?

“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but could we maybe go someplace less expensive?” I asked. “The last time we bought me a new suit, I was thirteen. I’ve grown a bit since then,” I added with a laugh.

“Don’t be silly,” Mom replied. “At sixteen, no one expects you to wear a suit. Your grey tweed sport coat with a white shirt, grey flannel pants and your burgundy tie will be just fine. You’re a handsome young man, Jeff. You’ll look good.” As I blushed, she continued, “You don’t turn sixteen every day, after all.

“Now, you were saying about Iowa?”

“Oh, right,” I responded. “Like I said, I’ve done experiments at Butler and in chemistry at North Central, but that’s not the same as doing independent research. In Iowa, I’ll be given a research question related to computers and it’ll be up to me to come up with a series of experiments of my own to answer it, to come up with metrics to measure success and then to write up and present my results in front of an audience. That’s the sort of thing I’m gonna do for my career, no matter what field I choose to go into.”

“I see,” Mom answered.

“I read over the list of available projects in computer science and there’s one in particular that appeals to me. It’s with the chairman of the Electrical Engineering department. I didn’t want to take a chance on someone else signing up for it before I could, so I called him. I know you don’t want me making long distance phone calls, but there was no other way…”

“No, there was no other way,” Mom interrupted. “You needed to speak to him today, so you did the right thing. We can afford an occasional long distance bill, especially when it’s urgent. I just hope you didn’t speak too long.”

“He was nice enough to call me right back, so I was only on the phone with his secretary for a minute or so. He’s really nice. We talked for close to an hour and I decided to have him sign me up for his project. Of course I hafta send in the paperwork to make it official, but he’s holding the place for me.”

Scanning across the paperwork, spread across the table, Mom said, “It certainly looks like you have a good deal of paperwork to do. When does it have to be in?”

“It has to be received by April 30, along with a deposit of $125,” I answered. “By the way, the $50 application fee is being waived, so we only hafta pay a balance of $375, which is due when I arrive.

“Also, I have to have medical reports sent to Student Health by both Dr. James and Dr. Kaplan. I also need to have Dr. Kaplan prepare serum to take with me so I can get my allergy shots while I’m there.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Mom replied. “Is there anything I need to fill out?”

“It looks like you’ll need to co-sign everything, ’cause I’m a minor. There are a ton of places to sign, but I don’t see anything here that you need to fill out. I’ll take care of all the details and you can co-sign all the forms when I’m done.”

“Okay,” Mom agreed. “Why don’t you keep working on the paperwork and I’ll get dinner ready? I have a pound of ground beef thawed in the refrigerator. How about I make Spanish rice and a salad?”

“Sounds good,” I responded.

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Saturday, May 20, 1972

Mom and I arrived early, but even so, the line at the BMV was interminably long. I could have gotten my drivers license after school back on Monday, when I turned 16 years, one month old, but we needed to change the registration on Dad’s old car and for that, I needed my mom. Since there was no point in making two trips to the BMV, I waited until the weekend, so Mom could come with me.

I was nearly as excited about having my own car as I was to be getting my license, but there was a price to be paid. I was a single teenage male driver and our car insurance had already gone through the roof. That would have happened, regardless of whether or not I had my own car. However, with an extra car, regardless of the registration, I was the presumed driver. I was gonna be spending more on insuring the old LTD than on gas and maintenance. It was my money too, from the survivor’s pension and Social Security.

I didn’t really need a car and I probably wouldn’t have bought one if we didn’t have Dad’s old car anyway. Mom couldn’t part with it when he died, and beyond a doubt, having my own car was gonna have a huge impact on my quality of life — well, starting in the fall, anyway. The thing was, it was only a fifteen-minute drive to and from school. However, being near the end of the route, I spent nearly an hour on the school bus each way every day. On top of that, with two loads per bus, I had to spend an extra hour at school in the morning just waiting around for the second load of students to arrive before classes began.

Sophomores weren’t eligible for a student parking permit, so I couldn’t drive to school until next year. Then I’d have to start school an hour earlier, ’cause they stagger the schedules for students who drive. Even so, I’d be able to sleep a bit longer in the morning, and I’d save some two and a half hours of wasted time every day.

I’d been busy in the month since my birthday. Speaking of which, my birthday was amazing, but it was crazy to even think of going to a restaurant like La Tour and seeing a movie on the same night. Fancy restaurants aren’t the place to go when you’re on a tight schedule. Mom gave me a choice of one or the other and I chose La Tour. I’ve yet to see The Godfather, which is no longer playing at local first-run theaters. Maybe I’ll catch the second run over the summer, if they’ll let me into the theater when I’m not yet seventeen.

The meal was worth it, though. When Mom turned Mr. Franklin down on sharing something called the Captain’s Table with him, he asked me if I’d be interested. I would’ve never considered ordering so much food on my own. I had things I never thought I’d ever eat, like escargot, which are snails, and frog legs. Yuck — who eats stuff like that? Both of them were heavenly. I never knew things that live in the slime could taste that good.

The fruits de mer — what we call seafood — was incredible. We’re not just talking shrimp here, but scallops, mussels, squid and a whole lobster tail, and we were just getting started. They served a seafood stew that contained wine. It was easily one of the best things I’d ever had. By the time we got to the main course, which consisted of a wood smoked sea bass filet, I was almost too stuffed to look at it, but I managed to finish it.

There was so much food that Mr. Franklin ended up sharing his meal with Mom, who’d only ordered a salad. Only later did I realize that that was probably the plan all along. Of course they had to embarrass me by singing Happy Birthday when the servers brought a small, fancy cake with a candle in the middle of it to the table. I didn’t think I had room for it, but I managed. The meal was memorable.

Anyway, in the time since then, I’ve been getting ready for the SSTP. I checked out a book on Fortran from the school library, but then ended up buying a paperback version when I realized I’d need it in college. I also bought a copy of Knuth’s books. Together, they cost over fifty bucks!

Rather than looking up the formula for Fourier transforms in the school library, I asked Dr. Dixon and he gave me some of his lecture notes. He set me to work deriving the transforms of several wave types, including triangle and square waves. We set up experiments using a signal generator and spectrum analyzer and guess what — they matched. Cool!

’Course I was busy too with term papers that were coming due and with preparations for the Drama Club’s spring play, but that was par for the course. I ended up being a poll worker for the school’s mock presidential primary. Humphrey won, as he did in the real primary, but whereas he easily won at school, he barely eked out a win over George Wallace statewide. However, a lot of the votes for Wallace came from Republicans trying to split the Democratic vote. Nationwide, it was McGovern who was surging in the polls, but he wasn’t even on the ballot in Indiana.

“I’ve been thinking,” Mom began, startling me from my thoughts, “the last day of school is in three weeks, and then you’ll have only five days before you start the SSTP in Iowa. However, there’s no reason for you to attend school after you sit for your final exams. If we left for Iowa after your last final, you’d have over a week to get there. You have a valid reason to skip those last few days in the classroom.”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” I replied. “They give incompletes to kids who skip those last few days.”

“Not if you ask permission,” Mom countered. “If you ask for an excused absence, you can take those days off without penalty. You have good reason to ask. You’ll only have four days to pack up and drive to Iowa.”

“But I’ll have everything packed up and ready to go before I even take my last final,” I pointed out. “Besides, there’s plenty of time to drive to Iowa City. It’s only 365 miles from our house. I looked it up in the library. At seventy miles an hour, that’s only five and a quarter hours of driving. We can easily do it in a day.”

“But you shouldn’t have to,” Mom countered. “You have a legitimate reason to ask for an excused absence, and I’m certain they’ll grant it. So I was thinking, why not make a little vacation of it?”

“Instead of the Blue Ridge?” I asked. Mom had made reservations more than a year ago to spend two weeks in August, hiking in Shenandoah National Park and exploring the area around the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was to be our first time taking a trip since Dad died. I couldn’t imagine walking away from a reservation made so far in advance.

“In addition to the Blue Ridge,” Mom explained. “Why not do both? I have more than enough accrued vacation time. What better time to use it, before my only child goes off to college?

“We could drive up to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, to Sault Ste Marie. There’s a narrow gauge railroad that makes a day-long roundtrip to Agawa Canyon in Ontario. It’s supposed to be a spectacular ride, and it’ll give you a chance to use that fancy new camera of yours. We’d see Tahquamenon Falls State Park and then take a boat ride to see Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. We’d spend a day exploring the Wisconsin Dells. We’d drive to Dubuque and then down along the Mississippi River to Davenport. From there, it’s a short drive to Iowa City.”

“That sounds like a lot to see and a lot of driving — maybe three or four days of driving by itself,” I responded. “It’s a lot to do in a week. A trip to Chicago might be more realistic.”

“You’re not ready to drive the Dan Ryan Expressway,” Mom countered. “Since I’ll be the one who has to drive the car back to Indianapolis by myself, and then back Iowa City to pick you up, I’d like you to do most of the driving when we’re together.”

“If I can get the time off from school and if you can get the reservations, count me in,” I replied.