Conversations with Mary Ann

ARI

Mary Ann, you must have had many conversations with Miss Rand.

MARY ANN

Many. Some long, some short, on a wide range of topics—from current events to psycho-epistemology to women’s clothing. These conversations came about in different ways. Something I said would lead her to inquire further. Very often, something she had written or lectured about prompted questions from me. Over the years, the same subject was discussed in different contexts—if she had made a new identification or defined a new principle, for example. And there were group discussions, too. So, now—years later—it’s not possible for me to separate the content of most individual conversations from her writings and speeches and other discussions—the knowledge is all integrated. But I do remember highlights of conversations that had special, personal meaning for me, that were focused on my questions and concerns.

ARI

Let’s talk about those. Did you take notes? Is that one of the reasons you remember them?

MARY ANN

No. The first time we had an appointment to discuss an issue, I came with a notebook, prepared to take notes. But she asked me not to.

ARI

What were her reasons?

MARY ANN

That it was not possible for me to follow her train of thought, ask questions, and take notes—at the same time. At first, I was surprised and disappointed, but as the evening progressed I could see that she was right. It took all of my mental energy to focus on her explanations and follow her reasoning. Everything she said was relevant and to the point. Note taking would have been a hindrance to understanding.

ARI

Was that always her policy?

MARY ANN

In my experience, yes. Except if she were giving a course, such as the lectures on fiction writing. Then note taking was permitted because it was a classroom setup and she was teaching. But, in our private conversations, she wanted my full attention. At the end of a discussion, she would always invite further discussion at a later time if, after reviewing the issues, I had more questions. And during the discussion, she invited questions, too.

In those early days, as soon as I got home after an evening with her, I made notes of everything I could remember. So that I could think about it, make sure I understood it, and jot down questions if I didn’t.

Our very first conversation after the oral exam had to do with teaching. It was the winter of 1955. At the time, I was giving a medieval art course at NYU, and I personally did not like most of the art—the flatness, the distortions in anatomy, the vacant, staring faces. I asked if it is proper to express my personal likes or dislikes when teaching.

ARI

What did she have to say to that?

MARY ANN

She said she was going to begin by asking me a question. Then she did something that was characteristic of her in any discussion: she got right to the heart of the issue. This is almost verbatim: “Tell me,” she asked, “What were you hired to teach?” She stressed the word “hired.” And I answered that the course was supposed to cover the history and development of subject and style in medieval art. Then she asked me two questions: was there anything about the subject that required me to express my personal opinions; and did such opinions clarify or add to the understanding of the history of medieval art? Well, of course, the answer was “no” to both. And she said, well, if that’s the case, why do you want to include them?

I didn’t know why and couldn’t say. But I could see that she was right. I wondered out loud why I was ever confused about the issue in the first place. Now, I didn’t expect an answer; to me, that was a rhetorical question. But not to Ayn Rand! She picked up on it immediately, and said that that was a separate question, an issue we could pursue if there was time. But, first, she said, she wanted to state a principle.

ARI

What was that?

MARY ANN

In any endeavor, in order to determine whether an action is appropriate, you have to define your purpose, you have to know what goal you want to achieve. And she gave a few simple examples to make her point. I remember only one—that if your goal is to lose weight, then you should stay away from fattening foods like cake and ice cream. And then she applied the principle to my case. If my goal was to present the history and development of medieval art, my personal reactions were not necessary. But, she said, suppose that part of the teaching assignment was to cover changing estimates of medieval art over time; then it would be appropriate to include mine as an illustration of a certain viewpoint.

ARI

But suppose a student asks for your opinion; can’t you give it?

MARY ANN

She was way ahead of us! She raised and answered that question, too. If a student asks for your estimate and response to medieval art, then it is appropriate for you to give it, if you want to. But only if you want to. It is optional. Here she made another important point.

ARI

Which was?

MARY ANN

That if I did give my personal views on medieval art, then I should indicate the reasons why I held those views. That way, she said, you are communicating the idea that there are reasons for esthetic responses, that they are not causeless emotions. However, she cautioned me to keep those comments to a minimum, and to answer those inquiries after the day’s lesson was finished. To keep my personal views out of the course material.

She frowned on professors who mix their personal views with their presentation of the subject, so that the students have a difficult, if not impossible, time separating the two. She said it put an unnecessary mental burden on the students.

ARI

What was her manner throughout all this?

MARY ANN

Just like she was during the oral exam. Completely focused on the issue and on my understanding of it—stopping to make sure I understood a point before going on to the next one. And something else, too. She was aware not only of what I was thinking, but of what I was feeling. She commented on the change she noticed in my facial expression and posture as the evening progressed. I was tense when we began; I looked troubled; I was sitting up straight. But, as I began to understand the issue, the worried look left my face, and I sat back in a much more relaxed manner. She was aware of all this. Whenever I was with her, I always knew I was being seen and heard.

In fact, some years later, one of our conversations resulted from her noticing my emotional state one evening.

ARI

Talk about that.

MARY ANN

She observed that I looked troubled, and asked me what was wrong. At the time, I was unhappy about a career problem, and I told her what it was. And I added that I was down on myself for feeling as I did. That last comment was what generated the discussion. But first we discussed the career problem, what caused it, and the possible solutions. We concluded that I didn’t have any choice in the matter. She pointed out that I was about to lose a value, and that that was reason enough to be unhappy. So, she asked, why do you hold that against yourself, why are you critical of yourself for feeling as you do? That was what had to be identified. And here she made an eye-opening point.

ARI

Which was?

MARY ANN

She said that the fact that happiness is the moral purpose of your life doesn’t mean that you must never be unhappy. Or, put another way, unhappiness isn’t necessarily caused by immorality, and one shouldn’t equate the two. Then she elaborated.

ARI

What points did she make?

MARY ANN

Well, first she reviewed the relationship between happiness and values—that the former results from the achievement of the latter. Then she said it was important to realize and accept that we cannot always control the events and circumstances that affect our values. As an example, she gave what she considered the worst possible case—the death of a spouse. Another example she gave was losing a job because of a recession in the economy. Or having a friend go back on his word. We can’t prevent these things, she said, yet they affect us. She gave herself as an example—when The Fountainhead was being rejected by publishers, she was not happy.

She went on. If a person is chronically unhappy and depressed, regardless of the circumstances in his life, then there is something wrong psychologically, and the person should seek professional help. But if the unhappiness results from the loss of a value and the person is not responsible, then there should be no self-recrimination. Here she made another distinction.

ARI

What was that?

MARY ANN

When things go wrong in your life, you will be unhappy. But the important question at those times is: are you at peace with yourself? That, she said, is something that is within your control. And when people don’t make this distinction, they suffer unnecessarily.

ARI

Can you elaborate? What does being at peace with yourself come from?

MARY ANN

From the knowledge that you did not betray your values, that you lived up to your standards to the best of your ability. From knowing that whatever mistakes you might have made, they were honest mistakes, they did not come from the refusal to think. That you are free from the nagging thought: if only I had done thus and so, things might be different. That you know you did not let yourself down, that your self-esteem is intact. That you lived up to the best within you. Then you are at peace with yourself.

ARI

How did this conversation affect you?

MARY ANN

It made all the difference in the world to me. I still had the career problem, but I could localize it, confine it, see it in perspective. I went there feeling burdened by some kind of great weight. At the end of the evening, I felt free of the unnamed burden. She had named it.

ARI

Was there a time when Miss Rand didn’t welcome questions?

MARY ANN

No, never. If she couldn’t discuss something because of her work and deadlines, she would ask you to be sure and raise the subject again, or call and make an appointment. Whenever I did call and say I had a question or an issue to discuss, she would always ask me to indicate the issue. Then we would make an appointment. Then she would always say, “Take it as far as you can by yourself, before we get together.” She wanted it to be a joint effort.

When we did get together, the sessions could last for hours. If we began at 8:00 p.m., I might not leave until 2:00 in the morning, or even later. And sometimes the discussion would be continued the next day by phone, if she had the time. What I just related were highlights of discussions. In answering any question, she pursued every aspect—every implication, every relevant connection to related issues, every necessary qualification. She questioned you, she gave examples; she posed clarifying alternatives. It was an exhaustive treatment of the issue. But it was not exhausting! Just the opposite. It was invigorating.

ARI

Would you clarify that last statement?

MARY ANN

In order to follow her progression of thought, you had to stay in full focus all the time. She didn’t wander mentally, so you didn’t either. She was like a ray of light moving ahead at a steady pace, and you tried to keep up with that light and see everything it illuminated. You stretched your brain. You tried to rise to her level of mental functioning. As a result, you were a better person for having been with her, for having made that effort.

I lived a few blocks away, but if I were leaving after midnight she always cautioned me not to walk home, but to have the doorman get me a cab. I did, but I really didn’t want to. I loved the times when it was early enough to walk home. I left her feeling exhilarated. It was like being on a mental high. And I didn’t want to come down. My mind had been in motion and I didn’t want to stop the movement. Exploring an issue with Ayn Rand was like climbing a moving escalator, two steps at a time. You reached your goal faster. I wanted to prolong that sensation of moving forward and up—to swing my arms, take longer steps and deeper breaths. That’s what she made possible.