Chiarandini: Amie, this is a bittersweet experience for me. It's our last time working together on TAP.
Richards: It's a bittersweet time for me, too, ending my term as editor of The American Psychoanalyst. TAP has been an important focus of my energies for four and a half years. I know I'm going to miss the whole newsletter, the process, deciding on themes and subjects, soliciting contributions, and supervising the editing. Oh, and the layout and design. The first of these tasks are serious; the last is the most fun.
Chiarandini: But will you have any role in TAP in the future?
Richards: I hope so. I'm going to serve as a consultant to Bill Jeffrey, my successor. I think Bill will do a terrific job. He was on the newsletter staff before I started as editor and has been on it through my entire term. Bill, in fact, got me into the “newsletter business” in the first place. He made me book review editor of the PANY Bulletin, which he edited for ten years. And he and I redesigned it after he took over.
Chiarandini: Were you also involved in the wonderful redesign of the newsletter of the New York Institute?
Richards: No, that was Carmela Perri and Sandy Cohen's project, but I did encourage them.
Chiarandini: Encouraging others to make changes is something you are famous for. People think you encourage others to give the best they have.
Richards: That is, of course, a nice way of putting it. The other way would be that I get a lot of people to do a lot of work.
Chiarandini: No question we would also say that.
Richards: Which, of course, some people have faulted me for.
Chiarandini: Including myself, calling you a Simon Legree.
Richards: Perhaps at this point I should make a few public apologies. First to Mel Mandel for calling him or sending a fax at 3:00 A.M. L.A. time. But I didn't know that the phone rang in his bedroom. And then to Central Office for all the requests for information or pictures I told them I needed that instant. And then to everyone else I tried to reach after eleven or before seven or on weekends. You know how grateful I was, Irene, when you trusted me enough to give me your weekend number!
However, I think the success of the newsletter has a lot to do with that dynamic between the editor and the editorial board, and between them and the Executive Committee, the officers of The American, and the membership. That's a crucial aspect of the work. It's the way an editor is able to mobilize and motivate people to work. It's an interesting dynamic that has several aspects to it. The first thing is that it only works if it in part works by example. In other words, the editor really has to be involved and enthusiastic and work very hard if he's going to expect other people to be enthusiastic and meet deadlines and work hard as well. So I think that's one aspect of it. The second aspect is that the editor has to succeed at establishing a product, a publication that is recognized and read, and has a certain amount of pizzazz and flair, because people will be more interested in writing for something if they have the sense that it is going to be read—it's going to be noticed. So that kind of creative partnership between the editor and the contributors to a publication is very important. It is certainly what I have tried to develop in all the things I've been involved with. I myself have really not written that much for TAP; the voices in the newsletter have been mostly voices other than my own.
Chiarandini: Including many local voices, all over the country, voices representative of the full geography of The American.
Richards: Well, that is, of course, something I decided to introduce in the very beginning, this idea of regional representatives, so that TAP would be a publication that's not geographically New York or East, or something that only comes out of the Central Office. The whole effort to cover the histories of the psychoanalytic societies throughout the country naturally brought the entire United States into the pages of TAP. And, you know, that in itself is an achievement. I am still hopeful that the histories we have published will be collected in a book. That project is a very interesting one, because it involves more than presenting in TAP the history of a specific society. It has worked out that giving a society the assignment of writing its own history has often had the effect of getting it to do a considerable amount of self-observation and self-reflection. In having to come up with an historical overview of themselves, they are kind of, well, seduced into self-analysis. It is interesting, because each society has handled this challenge, this assignment, in a different way, based on its own conflicts and politics. Its dynamics.
Chiarandini: Because this was for a newsletter and not an historical tome, which would seem so official, you probably got something fresher. In fact, I think that is one of the things about TAP that made it so unique under your leadership—there is a certain playfulness to the idea of a newsletter that you maintained throughout, and that quality colored the approach even to very serious subjects and allowed people to speak candidly.
Richards: That is a very good point. In fact, I must say, there were several times when I myself was surprised, not to say shocked, by what people were willing to say and put into print. Of course, the way interviews are structured, you tell the person, “Look, we're going to do the interview, but you will have final say over what gets printed.” And of course that puts people at their ease and encourages them to say things they might ordinarily not. But somehow, in the end, they are
often quite willing to have their thoughts printed. And that's a very interesting phenomenon, because I think it has something to do with the need all of us have to express ourselves and leave a record of what we think. If you put all the interviews together, collected them, not just the histories of the societies, you would have there, I think, another interesting record of psychoanalysis. Some people complain that TAP carries too many interviews, that they take up too much space, but I think the format lets us develop an oral record that preserves a lot of history that otherwise might be lost.
What to me is really most remarkable is the sense I've gotten at TAP—my view, not from the bridge, really, more from the bow—of the incredible amount of talent and involvement and interest among our members. I don't know where you'd find another group of three thousand people as talented, accomplished, and involved. It is really an incredible cohort. One of our problems, perhaps, is that we don't recognize that, don't acknowledge it to ourselves, and don't let others know how really special a group we are.
Chiarandini: But I think one of the great accomplishments of TAP is that it has been a wonderful reflection of The American. It portrays us wonderfully outside our own community. I have received comments from many people outside The American who have liked TAP, who although they are not members would like to be included in the mailing.
Richards: I might mention that the newsletter is increasingly being referred to in the scholarly literature. The Paul Gray interview by Marianne Goldberger has been cited several times, and in fact I think it's going to be reprinted in a book. Jack
Arlow's address to the San Francisco graduating class about teaching Freud has also been referenced in several papers, including one by Gerald Fogel and Robert Click. That's been a very encouraging thing. This whole process of self-reflection—of looking backward and looking at the way we are and where we are going—was influenced perhaps by a serendipitous event, a coincidence that I think started TAP out on this path from the very beginning. The first issue of TAP appeared in 1989, which happened to be the fiftieth anniversary of Freud's death. And that date, 1939, when he died, neatly bisected our history—fifty years with Freud alive, and the fifty years following. We very much began with that kind of mindset, of looking at what has come before and what has come since. I think the identity theme for TAP was established right there and then; the rest was, we might say, a running commentary on the burgeoning and beleaguered theme.
Chiarandini: “Burgeoning and Beleaguered: Psychoanalysis in the Nineties”—that's the title of an article you did for the Encyclopaedia Britannica. It seems to reflect your view of where we are, and also your firm identity as an analyst.
Richards: Yes, I have on the one hand a sense of all the problems we face, but on the other a kind of fundamental optimism. Where I begin is with a sense of conviction of psychoanalysis as a science, as a method—the analytic method—and as a treatment. If one stands on that base, then one feels able to confront the criticism and the problems we face and to proceed in a way that recognizes the difficulties others sometimes have with us. But one can view all that as part a process of education and dialogue that in the end is going to benefit psychoanalysis.
Chiarandini: I think analytic conviction—and this only seems paradoxical—entails enormous respect for other models and theories within psychoanalysis.
Richards: Yes, the point is to engage other theories and other approaches from a position of conviction and strength. The difficulty we get into is that when we approach things from a position of weakness we aren't willing to maintain a dialogue. Some of our institutions and members seem to be so rigid and dogmatic, perhaps out of some fundamental insecurity and uncertainty about what they are doing. And so, you're right. I've been very interested in engaging other points of view and have been pleased with the response I've had from people who, though they certainly disagree with me, appreciate the fact that I take them seriously.
Chiarandini: Let's go hack to the first issue of TAP and its coinciding with the fiftieth anniversary of Freud's death.
Richards: Well, I thought the event presented me the occasion to reflect on what the newsletter should be—the function it should serve and the scope of what we would attempt to cover. The newsletter of The American has a long history. It was started in 1967 and was certainly an excellent publication. Leo Rangell was president then and appointed David Kairys as editor. There were differences in style from editor to editor, but the main emphasis was on what I call “newsletter content,” the kind of material that any association puts in its newsletter. But the fact that when I took over we were at what seemed to me a rather significant point in the history of psychoanalysis made me think. I felt that perhaps the newsletter could go beyond reporting current happenings and acknowledge the fact that The American is more than just a professional association—it is an integral part of psychoanalysis in the United States and worldwide. So my idea was to start over again and take the newsletter in a new direction. We changed its design, the color, and changed its name to The American Psychoanalyst, with the idea that we would cover news not only from the Association but from other sources about whatever else was going on in psychoanalysis. Some people
“I've been very interested in engaging other points of view and have been pleased with the response I've had from people who, though they certainly disagree with me, appreciate the fact that I take them seriously.”
thought I might get some flak about the name—that it suggested an imperialistic attitude on the part of The American—and indeed some of our members were quite concerned about it. But I must say that in the four and a half years 1 was editor no one outside The American seemed to find the name inappropriate. Perhaps it was because of the spirit in which the newsletter was produced. I think we were as inclusive as was appropriate in terms of reporting on other organizations, the IPA institutes for instance. We cast a wide net. I particularly liked several issues we devoted to “Americans abroad,” as well as the coverage of the IPA meetings.
Chiarandini: It's interesting you say you considered The American to be part of psychoanalysis, unlike some within the Association, you recognize that psychoanalysis also went on outside it.
Richards: Yes, within other organizations. You see, I think another historical contingency, besides the Freud anniversary, was important in the direction the newsletter took. This was just at the point where the lawsuit with Division 39 was settled and the whole question of nonmedical membership in The American was being discussed, leading to eventual passage of the bylaw amendment. 1 think TAP made an important contribution to these discussions, and I'm sure people have noticed that we try to make the newsletter “discipline blind.” As a rule, we omit degrees after people's names—M.D., Ph.D., M.S.W.—and this is done not only to make the text less busy but to convey the idea that psychoanalysis is a transcendent discipline, the private domain of no one group.
Chiarandini: May I ask you to elaborate on this issue of lay analysis?
Richards: Well, it's been such a fractious issue in the U.S., and indeed for psychoanalysis worldwide. And I think we in The American have to accept our share of the blame. After all, A. A. Brill, a staunch defender of the medical psychiatric faction, was a founding member of the New York Society and served The American for several years as president. Martin Bergmann once defined lay analysts as people who enter their profession with the primary goal of becoming a psychoanalyst. I guess that applies to me. I decided to become an analyst before I decided to go to medical school.
Chiarandini: And when was it that you decided to become one?
Richards: When I was fourteen and read the New Introductory Lectures—the Permabook edition with the shiny red and yellow cover. I was in high school, Erasmus Hall in Brooklyn. Three of my schoolmates—Bennett Simon, Stanley Palombo, and Martin Willick—also went on to become analysts and are members of The American. Was it something about our cohort, or something in the Flatbush water?
Chiarandini: And after high school?
Richards: I went on to the University of Chicago, the Robert Hutchins college, and my interest in psychoanalysis survived studying Aristotle and Aquinas and a critical analysis of Freud. I guess that was the case also for a new group of future analysts in school with me: Robert Michels, Fred Solomon, Ethel Person, Sandy Siler, Norman Mages, Leon Balter, David Terman, and Arlene Kramer, now my wife. For medical school I went to Downstate, in Brooklyn, and actually I considered internal medicine or pathology for a while because of some of the mentors. But psychoanalysis returned to the forefront when I did my psychiatric clerkship. Howard Potter headed the department as well as the Downstate Psychoanalytic Institute, and was very much involved in medical student teaching. There was a Saturday morning session led by William Console, a course with Jan Frank, and three young preceptors from the Institute—Shelley Orgel, Sam Abrams, and Len Shengold. Those were heady times. When I did a summer internship at the Staten Island Public Health Service Hospital, Larry Deutsch was there, a candidate then at Downstate, with a keen interest in psychosomatic medicine and an intense enthusiasm for psychoanalysis. Another mentor
on that service, from whom I also learned a lot, was Steve Firestein. I later interned at the USPHS Hospital in Baltimore. That service was not special with regard to psychiatry, but it was a great year to be in Baltimore—1959, the year Johnny Unitas and the Colts beat the Giants. Also serendipitously, Warren and Janice Poland were neighbors. He was then a first-year resident on Jack Finesinger's service at the University of Maryland, and was enthusiastic about his work, an enthusiasm he conveyed to me.
Chiarandini: I know you did your residency in Topeka, at the Menninger Clinic. How did you, a kid from Brooklyn, decide to train in the Midwest, in Kansas?
Richards: A good question. I applied for and was accepted at the Einstein program in the Bronx. Had I gone there I would have been in the group that includes many of my closest colleagues and friends in New York: Ernie Kafka, Marty Willick, Lester Friedman, Mike Porder, and—alas—Bob Kabcenell. But for some of us from Brooklyn, it's easier to move to Kansas than to the Bronx. I feel that my residency in Topeka was special. I'm sure you know the tradition there, and the people who had been there and gone on— Rapaport, Knight, Brenman-Gibson, Schafer, Gill—and those who were there when I trained: Herb Schlesinger was my third-year thesis mentor, and then there were Howard Shevrin, Robert Wallerstein, and Philip Holzman, just to name a few. The Alfred Sloan Visiting Professors afforded residents some particularly special training experiences. During the three years I was there, we had the opportunity to meet with Konrad Lorenz, Ludwig von Bertalanffy, Aldous Huxley, S. I. Hayakawa, Maxwell Gitelson, Peter Kuper, Fred Hacker, and Margaret Mead. We missed Anna Freud and Charles Fisher, who came afterward.
Chiarandini: That seems a wonderful time. Please go on.
Richards: Well, after the residency in Topeka, I served for two years in the U.S. Public Health Service as Chief Psychiatrist and Chief Medical Officer at the Federal reformatory in Petersburg, Virginia. That was an important experience for me. I evaluated adolescent offenders but, most important, worked with the staff. I learned a lot about how to function in a hierarchical, authoritarian institution. Petersburg was also an interesting place to be in 1963 and 1964, right in the middle of the civil rights struggle. I worked at Virginia Union University, talking to black students, many of whom would become leaders in SNCC. We organized an integrated art show at Petersburg State College, despite opposition from the local community, and Arlene rode the bus from the Petersburg Baptist Church to a march in Washington. Around that time 1 attended a meeting of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference in Richmond and linked arms with Ralph Abernathy, Wyatt Tee Walker, and other ministers, and sang “We Shall Overcome.”
After all that, returning to New York and training at the New York Institute was exciting in a different way. Finally, I was precisely where I had wanted to be ever since the age of fourteen. And then there were my teachers: Isakower, Young, Jacobson, Bornstein, Arlow, Brenner, Loewenstein, Stein, Bak, Malkove. And Hartmann was still alive too, though he didn't teach, and then there was a seminar with Bert Lewin that was very special. But to return in a way to the issue of lay analysis, which you brought up earlier, I think that for those intent on becoming analysts, the interest in psychoanalysis—in learning its theory and practice—really transforms whatever professional discipline they might have entered prior to training. Though differences in professional background may occasionally make themselves
“…for those intent on becoming analysts, the interest in psychoanalysis …transforms whatever …discipline they may have entered prior to training. Though differences in professional background may occassionally make themselves felt, their overall effect is to enrich psychoanalysis.”
felt, their overall effect is to enrich psychoanalysis, which becomes the primary mode of expression. Differences between analysts with the same background may in fact be far greater than those between analysts coming from different disciplines.
Chiarandini: Indeed. Because regardless of what discipline we have a degree in, what matters most is our personal history and the personal development that leads us to psychoanalysis.
Richards: Yes, and enables us to go through the training, to persevere, and to come out as psychoanalysts.
Chiarandini: I pick up here on an excitement, an enthusiasm for psychoanalysis that you seem to have brought to your work on TAP.
Richards: Well, yes. One of the things that has made editing the newsletter so satisfying is that through TAP we could influence the course of the organization, and through that the course of a science, a discipline, a practice that I feel very passionate about. Through the newsletter, you have the opportunity to create a vision, a sense of mission, an approach to the psychoanalytic issues of the day, and to do something to bring about what you think is right. Take for instance the idea of having candidates for offices of The American present position statements in the newsletter. It's something that we now take for granted, that we expect, and—though there are still feelings pro and con about it—I would say overall that people feel it's the right thing to do. If you have an election, the electorate should know what the candidates stand for. But when I first proposed the idea, it was viewed as a somewhat radical proposal. One of the officers then—I'll never forget this—said it was a bad idea because it would make the election “political.” Of course to me that seemed the point; an election is political, and that's the whole idea! In any case, I was able to convince the Executive Committee to allow position statements, and I think this has had a positive impact on the democratic process in the Association. I should give credit here to Herb Schlesinger, who encouraged me to really push for this. So to get back to your question, becoming editor of the Journal fits in naturally with the kind of work I enjoy and find so satisfying.
Chiarandini: I would like you to think about people who have been important to you during your tenure as TAP editor, and in what capacity they have been important.
Richards: Well, I was appointed editor of TAP by Homer Curtis, but our terms overlapped for a very brief period—I think only one or two issues came out while Homer was president. Mike Allison and then Bernie Pacella succeeded him, and they certainly were very important to me in the development of TAP. Their support, their encouragement, their guidance, were greatly appreciated, and I got to know them very well and developed with each a very special friendship. I want to add here Marvin Margolis, who chaired BOPS for most of the time I was editor. I did have some contact with Jay Krent, and I think we dealt successfully with several controversial stories, most notably the stormy situation in Los Angeles. Jay's untimely death, of course, cut short our relationship. I will always remember being up late one night trying to bring to press a story that would satisfy Jay, Mike Allison, the people in Southern California, and of course myself. Because of the time difference between the coasts, the issue was not resolved until one o'clock in the morning, Eastern time. But, you know, although that kind of conflict resolution leading to publication can be difficult and challenging, it is also very satisfying when it is conducted successfully and you are left with the sense that everyone is satisfied with the final product.
That brings me to a person who was crucial in the “empowering” of TAP, and that person is, of course, Helen Fischer. TAP involved a kind of creative process between the two of us. It was she who decided on the red, white, and blue design so
familiar to us today, but her role went far beyond that. I learned early on to rely on her impeccable judgment, her knowledge of the organization, and her capacity to mediate disagreements. She was also a constant source of ideas about “what's going on in The American,” what should be covered, what we should do, and when. It should be stressed that editing TAP involves a very delicate balance between the needs of the readers, the prerogatives of the editor, and the imperatives of the Association and the Executive Committee. On the one hand, the principle of a free, uncensored newsletter is essential to the health and well-being of the organization. On the other, there are constraints, as issues arise which have to be dealt with tactfully and with attention to timing in coverage. It really takes a lot of effort and work on the part of the editor and the leadership to maintain the proper balance in this regard. I think Helen played a particularly important role in that. The important thing is that she was always there, always available, in a way that was, in many instances, authoritative but never condescending. Over the four and a half years I was editor, I established a relationship with her that I will always treasure. It's a good example of the way people can work together, dedicated to a cause, transcending personal differences, competitive feelings, rivalries, and all the other stuff that can wear people down when they work in an organization. The thing about Helen, I think, is that she has such a profound respect for all the people in the organization—a respect for their contributions—even as she's able to recognize their foibles and idiosyncrasies. She's also very direct, doesn't stand on ceremony, and has a capacity for cutting through a lot of complex matters.
Chiarandini: Could you comment more on your editorial freedom in regard to TAP?
Richards: Well, in my four and a half years I never felt unduly pressured by the Executive Committee over anything that went in. When I've said this to people, they've been surprised because they seem to assume that the governing body of an organization will naturally press its views. But I think we were able to avoid that tendency, because the leadership had confidence both in my commitment to the organization and in my judgment regarding the sensibilities and interests of contributors and those involved in various controversies. In this regard, the special issue we did on delinkage stands out. In it we were able to present the divergent views to the membership, thereby advancing the debate to what I feel was its successful resolution. In a similar vein, the coverage we have given to the issue of certification—and, perhaps to a lesser extent, the issue of homosexuality and training—has also had a positive effect. The discussions we've run on nonmedical clinical training might also be mentioned here. All these controversial issues, I feel, are instances where the debate was focused and enhanced by TAP. When all is said and done, this is where the newsletter makes its most vital contribution. Already the debate over managed care and health plans more generally has been joined in the pages of TAP, and the various points of view, I'm sure, will be developed and thrashed out until the membership can come to a proper decision. It's almost trite to say so, but no less true, that a democratic organization depends on an informed membership.
Chiarandini: You touch here on another issue involving balance, the treading of a delicate line, in that the newsletter is meant both to inform the membership and also, at the same time, to represent us to the external world. TAP is read by a surprising number of people outside the organization. Do you have figures on the number of people outside The American who either subscribe or receive courtesy copies?
Richards: I think it's close to four hundred. It's a list of fairly influential people, and of course a single copy usually gets circulated to several individuals.
Chiarandini: Four hundred. That's between ten and fifteen percent of our entire membership.
“There were times during the lawsuit when things appearing in TAP were distorted and used against us, but… I think the benefits of open, honest reportage outweigh any possible downside.”
Richards: Yes, and here of course the risk, and often the fear, is that the organization is washing its dirty linen in public.
Chiarandini: Indeed. I sometimes share that feeling. As an associate editor for North America for the IPA newsletter, I recently had some doubts about reporting on certain aspects of The American's Meeting of Members. Was it desirable for us to be represented to the international community by three different positions on health care? We have the “official” position, articulated by Drew Clemens, another one advanced by the Coalition for Patients' Rights, and yet another by the Southern California group. Would reporting this create misunderstandings? Would the information be distorted to our detriment? In the end I decided that that's going to happen regardless of whether we hang out the wash, so—to stretch the laundry metaphor a bit—we might just as well come clean.
Richards: Yes. There were times during the lawsuit when things appearing in TAP were distorted and used against us, but I think we survived that, and I think the benefits of open, honest reportage far outweigh any possible downside.
Chiarandini: Arnie, is there anything you want to talk about that we haven't covered? I know you are excited about the new data transmission technology and its application to TAP.
Richards: Oh, that is a revolutionary change! I am quite pleased with the progress we have made in the editing and production process. As readers may have noticed on page 2 of this issue, we now provide contributors instructions on how to send articles on disk or by electronic mail. Lawrence Schwartz, our production person, is responsible for these procedures. He is in charge of computer archiving and works closely with our manuscript editor, Michael Farrin, who I believe is one of the best manuscript editors in our field, an opinion shared by the many others who have benefited from his work. I am planning, in time, to put JAPA on the “information superhighway” as well. I have given Robert Galatzer-Levy the task of helping members of the Editorial Board join an E-mail network, which will greatly speed the manuscript review process.
Chiarandini: You know Arnie, we haven't talked about your plans for JAPA and the future. Are you being reticent?
Richards: Well, I was interviewed by Lucy LaFarge for an article about the Journal to appear in the IPA newsletter, so I don't want to steal Lucy's thunder, or Ethel Person's, or my own! I have also written a piece, called “Changing of the Guard,” for the first number of JAPA to appear under my editorship. There I introduce the new associate editors, who will, together with the Editorial Board, work very closely with me. They are Glen Gabbard, Phyllis Tyson, Henry Smith, and Lawrence Friedman. In both pieces I discuss various new policies and formats. Here I might mention the new cover. I hope people will find it pleasing. A new wrinkle is that the color of the cover will change with each number in a volume, an idea that came to me after a dinner at the Four Seasons. Number 1 will be blue (winter), 2 will be green (spring), 3 will be gold (summer), and 4 will be russet (fall). The sequence will be repeated regularly in each volume. Esthetics and symbolic conceits aside, the color scheme has the added benefit that those of us who are getting older, and perhaps a mite presbyopic, will be able to look at the shelf and immediately identify the number we're looking for. We are also bringing back the pictures accompanying Presidential Addresses, which for some reason got dropped. That decision was influenced by my experience as editor of TAP, which made me recognize the importance of pictures for the historical record. Several times when we needed a picture of someone who had been around a long time ago, we could find it in JAPA. Which brings me back to newsletters and their value. I always remember a quote of Trotsky, who I think said, “Don't tell me what happened; tell me what was reported in the newspaper.” 1 think that's the point of all this—that, really, history is what is written down.
Chiarandini: Well, thank you, Arnie, for this opportunity to talk, and for these exceptional four and a half years.