"Jó napot, pacák" Which, as somebody here must surely know, means "What's up, guys?" in Magyar, that peculiar non-Indo-European language spoken by Hungarians for which, given the fact that cognitive diversity is at least as threatened as biodiversity on this planet, few would have imagined much of a future even a century or two ago. But there it is: "Jó napot, pacák" I said somebody here must surely know, because despite the fact that there aren't that many Hungarians to begin with, and the further fact that, so far as I know, there's not a drop of Hungarian blood in my veins, at every critical juncture of my life there has been a Hungarian friend or mentor there beside me. I even have dreams that take place in landscapes I recognize as the landscapes of Hungarian films, especially the early movies of Miklos Jancso.
"Jó napot, pacák", što, kao što neki među vama zasigurno znaju, na mađarskom znači: "Šta ima, ljudi?", na tom čudnom neindoevropskom jeziku koji govore Mađari za koji bi, imajući u vidu činjenicu da je kognitivna raznovrsnost bar podjednako ugrožena kao i biodiverzitet na ovoj planeti, nekolicina mogla da zamisli da ima budućnost, čak i pre vek ili dva. Ali on još postoji: "Jó napot, pacák" Rekao sam da neko od vas zasigurno zna jer uprkos činjenici da ipak nema toliko Mađara i zbog druge činjenice da, koliko mi je poznato, nema ni kapi mađarske krvi u mojim venama, u svakoj prelomnoj tački mog života imao sam po jednog mađarskog prijatelja ili mentora pored sebe. Čak sam i u snovima viđao pejzaže koje prepoznajem kao pejzaže iz mađarskih filmova, naročito ranih filmova Mikloša Janča.
So, how do I explain this mysterious affinity? Maybe it's because my native state of South Carolina, which is not much smaller than present-day Hungary, once imagined a future for itself as an independent country. And as a consequence of that presumption, my hometown was burned to the ground by an invading army, an experience that has befallen many a Hungarian town and village throughout its long and troubled history. Or maybe it's because when I was a teenager back in the '50s, my uncle Henry -- having denounced the Ku Klux Klan and been bombed for his trouble and had crosses burned in his yard, living under death threat -- took his wife and children to Massachusetts for safety and went back to South Carolina to face down the Klan alone. That was a very Hungarian thing to do, as anyone will attest who remembers 1956. And of course, from time to time Hungarians have invented their own equivalent of the Klan.
Pa, kako da objasnim ovu tajanstvenu naklonost? Možda zato što je moja rodna država Južna Karolina, koja nije mnogo manja od današnje Mađarske, nekada zamišljala svoju budućnost kao nezavisna država. I kao posledica te pretpostavke, moj rodni grad je do temelja spalila osvajačka armija, iskustvo koje je zadesilo mnoge mađarske gradove i sela kroz njihovu dugu i problematičnu istoriju. Ili je zato što kad sam bio tinejdžer '50-ih, moj ujak Henri - nakon što je osudio Kju Klaks klan i bio bombardovan zbog svog ispada i krstovi su mu goreli u dvorištu, živeći pod pretnjom smrti - poveo svoju ženu i decu u Masačusets radi bezbednosti i vratio se u Južnu Karolinu da bi se suočio s Klanom sam. To je bilo poprilično u mađarskom maniru, kao što će bilo ko posvedočiti ko se seća 1956. I naravno, s vremena na vreme, Mađari su i sami smišljali sopstvene verzije Klana.
Well, it seems to me that this Hungarian presence in my life is difficult to account for, but ultimately I ascribe it to an admiration for people with a complex moral awareness, with a heritage of guilt and defeat matched by defiance and bravado. It's not a typical mindset for most Americans, but it is perforce typical of virtually all Hungarians. So, "Jó napot, pacák!"
Dakle, čini mi se da je ova mađarska prisutnost u mom životu teško shvatljiva, ali ja je naposletku pripisujem divljenju prema ljudima sa složenom moralnom svešću, prema nasleđu krivice i poraza uparenim sa prkosom i odvažnošću. Nije to tipično američki mentalitet, ali je nužno tipičan za skoro svakog Mađara. Zato: "Jó napot, pacák"
I went back to South Carolina after some 15 years amid the alien corn at the tail end of the 1960s, with the reckless condescension of that era thinking I would save my people. Never mind the fact that they were slow to acknowledge they needed saving. I labored in that vineyard for a quarter century before making my way to a little kingdom of the just in upstate South Carolina, a Methodist-affiliated institution of higher learning called Wofford College. I knew nothing about Wofford and even less about Methodism, but I was reassured on the first day that I taught at Wofford College to find, among the auditors in my classroom, a 90-year-old Hungarian, surrounded by a bevy of middle-aged European women who seemed to function as an entourage of Rhinemaidens.
Vratio sam se u Južnu Karolinu nakon nekih 15 godina, u sred sezone kukuruza na samom koncu 1960-ih, s nehajnom snishodljivošću prema toj oblasti, misleći kako ću da spasem svoj narod. Ne mareći za činjenicu da ne žure da priznaju da im je potrebno spasavanje. Nadničio sam u tom vinogradu četvrt veka ranije, krčeći sebi put ka malom kraljevstvu pravednika na severu Južne Karoline, instituciji ujedinjenih metodista višeg obrazovanja pod imenom Fakultet Voford. Ništa nisam znao o Vofordu, a još manje o metodizmu, ali sam razuveren prvog dana kao učitelj na Fakultetu Voford, otkrivši, među slušaocima u učonici, 90-ogodišnjeg Mađara, okruženog jatom sredovečnih Evropljanki koje su izgledale kao pratnja Rajnovih kćeri.
His name was Sandor Teszler. He was a puckish widower whose wife and children were dead and whose grandchildren lived far away. In appearance, he resembled Mahatma Gandhi, minus the loincloth, plus orthopedic boots. He had been born in 1903 in the provinces of the old Austro-Hungarian Empire, in what later would become Yugoslavia. He was ostracized as a child, not because he was a Jew -- his parents weren't very religious anyhow -- but because he had been born with two club feet, a condition which, in those days, required institutionalization and a succession of painful operations between the ages of one and 11. He went to the commercial business high school as a young man in Budapest, and there he was as smart as he was modest and he enjoyed a considerable success. And after graduation when he went into textile engineering, the success continued. He built one plant after another. He married and had two sons. He had friends in high places who assured him that he was of great value to the economy.
Zvao se Šandor Tesler. Bio je nestašan udovac čiji su žena i deca bili mrtvi i čija su unučad živela daleko. Pojavom je podsećao na Mahatmu Gandija, oduzmite tkaninu oko kukova, dodajte ortopedske čizme. Rođen je 1903. u provinciji starog Austrougarskog carstva, što će kasnije da bude Jugoslavija. Kao dete je izopšten, ne zato što je bio Jevrej - roditelji mu uopšte nisu bili religiozni - već zato što je rođen sa dva kriva stopala, stanje koje je u to vreme zahtevalo institucionalizovanje i niz bolnih operacija od prve do 11. godine. Upisao je kao mladić srednju trgovinsko-poslovnu školu u Budimpešti, i pokazalo se da je pametan koliko i skroman. i uživao je značajan uspeh. A nakon mature kada je ušao u posao inženjeringa tekstila, uspeh se nastavio. Gradio je fabriku za fabrikom. Oženio se i dobio dva sina. Imao je prijatelje na visokim pozicijama koji su ga uveravali da je od izuzetnog značaja za ekonomiju.
Once, as he had left instructions to have done, he was summoned in the middle of the night by the night watchman at one of his plants. The night watchman had caught an employee who was stealing socks -- it was a hosiery mill, and he simply backed a truck up to the loading dock and was shoveling in mountains of socks. Mr. Teszler went down to the plant and confronted the thief and said, "But why do you steal from me? If you need money you have only to ask." The night watchman, seeing how things were going and waxing indignant, said, "Well, we're going to call the police, aren't we?" But Mr. Teszler answered, "No, that will not be necessary. He will not steal from us again."
Jednom, kao što je i naredio da se uradi, pozvao ga je u sred noći noćni čuvar jedne od njegovih fabrika. Čuvar je uhvatio jednog radnika kako krade čarape - bila je to čarapara i on je prosto parkirao kamion do utovarnog doka i utovarivao je gomile čarapa. G. Tesler je otišao do fabrike suočio se sa lopovom i rekao: "Ali zašto kradeš od mene? Ako ti je potreban novac, samo zatraži." Noćni čuvar, videći kako se stvari odvijaju, zavapio je ogorčeno, rečima: "Dakle, pozvaćemo policiju, zar ne?" Ali, g. Tesler je odgovorio: "Ne, nema potrebe za tim. Neće više nikad krasti od nas."
Well, maybe he was too trusting, because he stayed where he was long after the Nazi Anschluss in Austria and even after the arrests and deportations began in Budapest. He took the simple precaution of having cyanide capsules placed in lockets that could be worn about the necks of himself and his family. And then one day, it happened: he and his family were arrested and they were taken to a death house on the Danube. In those early days of the Final Solution, it was handcrafted brutality; people were beaten to death and their bodies tossed into the river. But none who entered that death house had ever come out alive. And in a twist you would not believe in a Steven Spielberg film -- the Gauleiter who was overseeing this brutal beating was the very same thief who had stolen socks from Mr. Teszler's hosiery mill. It was a brutal beating. And midway through that brutality, one of Mr. Teszler's sons, Andrew, looked up and said, "Is it time to take the capsule now, Papa?" And the Gauleiter, who afterwards vanishes from this story, leaned down and whispered into Mr. Teszler's ear, "No, do not take the capsule. Help is on the way." And then resumed the beating.
Pa, možda je bio isuviše poverljiv jer je ostao na istom mestu dugo nakon nacističkog pripajanja Austrije i čak i nakon što su počela hapšenja i deportacije u Budimpešti. Jedina predostrožnost koju je preduzeo bile su kapsule cijanida u medaljonima koje su mogli da nose oko vrata on i njegova porodica. I to se jednoga dana desilo: on i njegova porodica su uhapšeni i odvedeni su u kuću smrti na Dunavu. Tih prvih dana Konačnog rešenja, brutalnost je bila ručni rad; ljudi su prebijani na smrt, a njihova tela su bacali u reku. Ali niko ko je ušao u tu kuću nikada iz nje nije izašao živ. I u preokretu, u koji ne biste poverovali ni u Spilbergovom filmu - gaulajter, oficir koji je nadgledao ova brutalna prebijanja bio je lopov koji je krao čarape iz g. Teslerove fabrike. Bilo je to brutalno prebijanje. I u sred te brutalnosti, jedan od g. Teslerovih sinova, Endru, uspravio je pogled i upitao: "Je li sad vreme da uzmemo pilulu, oče?" A gaulajter, koji nakon toga nestaje iz priče, se sageo i prošaputao g. Tesleru na uho: "Ne, ne uzimajte pilulu. Stiže vam pomoć." I zatim je nastavio s prebijanjem.
But help was on the way, and shortly afterwards a car arrived from the Swiss Embassy. They were spirited to safety. They were reclassified as Yugoslav citizens and they managed to stay one step ahead of their pursuers for the duration of the War, surviving burnings and bombings and, at the end of the War, arrest by the Soviets. Probably, Mr. Teszler had gotten some money into Swiss bank accounts because he managed to take his family first to Great Britain, then to Long Island and then to the center of the textile industry in the American South. Which, as chance would have it, was Spartanburg, South Carolina, the location of Wofford College. And there, Mr. Teszler began all over again and once again achieved immense success, especially after he invented the process for manufacturing a new fabric called double-knit.
Međutim, pomoć je stizala i nedugo potom stigao je automobil švajcarske amabasade. Hitno su prebačeni na sigurno mesto. Premešteni su u kategoriju jugoslovenskih građana i uspeli su da ostanu korak ispred svojih progonitelja sve vreme trajanja rata, preživevši požare i bombardovanja i, krajem rata, hapšenje od strane Sovjeta. Verovatno je g. Tesler imao novca na bankovnim računima u Švajcarskoj jer je uspeo da porodicu prebaci, prvo u Ujedinjeno Kraljevstvo, potom na Long Ajlend, a zatim u središte tekstilne industrije na američkom jugu. A to je, igrom slučaja, bio Spartanburg u Južnoj Karolini, mesto gde se nalazi fakultet Voford. I tu je g Tesler krenuo ispočetka i ponovo je postigao ogroman uspeh, naročito nakon što je izumeo proces proizvodnje novog tkanja poznatog kao duplo tkanje.
And then in the late 1950s, in the aftermath of Brown v. Board of Education, when the Klan was resurgent all over the South, Mr. Teszler said, "I have heard this talk before." And he called his top assistant to him and asked, "Where would you say, in this region, racism is most virulent?" "Well, I don't rightly know, Mr. Teszler. I reckon that would be Kings Mountain." "Good. Buy us some land in Kings Mountain and announce we are going to build a major plant there." The man did as he was told, and shortly afterwards, Mr. Teszler received a visit from the white mayor of Kings Mountain. Now, you should know that at that time, the textile industry in the South was notoriously segregated. The white mayor visited Mr. Teszler and said, "Mr. Teszler, I trust you’re going to be hiring a lot of white workers." Mr. Teszler told him, "You bring me the best workers that you can find, and if they are good enough, I will hire them." He also received a visit from the leader of the black community, a minister, who said, "Mr. Teszler, I sure hope you're going to hire some black workers for this new plant of yours." He got the same answer: "You bring the best workers that you can find, and if they are good enough, I will hire them." As it happens, the black minister did his job better than the white mayor, but that's neither here or there. Mr. Teszler hired 16 men: eight white, eight black.
A onda krajem 1950-ih, nakon slučaja Braun protiv Odbora za obrazovanje, kada je Klan ponovo bio u usponu širom Juga, g. Tesler je rekao: "Poznat mi je ovaj govor mržnje." I pozvao je svoje najbolje asistente i upitao ih: "Gde mislite da je u ovom regionu rasizam najzarazniji?" "Pa, baš ne znam, g. Tesler, valjda bi to bilo u Kings Mauntinu." "Dobro. Hajde da kupimo zemlju u Kings Mauntinu i najavimo da ćemo tu sagraditi veliku fabriku." Čovek je uradio kako mu je rečeno i nedugo potom, g. Teslera je posetio beli gradonačelnik Kings Mauntina. E sad, morate da znate da je u to vreme tekstilna industrija na Jugu bila pod notornom segregacijom. Beli gradonačelnik je posetio g. Teslera i rekao: "G. Tesler, verujem da ćete zaposliti mnogo belih radnika." G. Tesler mu je rekao: "Dovedite mi najbolje radnike koje nađete i, ako su dovoljno dobri, zaposliću ih." Takođe ga je posetio vođa zajednice crnaca, sveštenik, rekavši: "G. Tesler, svakako očekujem da ćete zaposliti nešto radnika crnaca u ovoj vašoj novoj fabrici." Dobio je isti odgovor: "Dovedite mi najbolje radnike koje nađete i, ako su dovoljno dobri, zaposliću ih." I kako to biva, sveštenik crnac je odradio posao bolje od belog gradonačelnika, no to nije važno. G. Tesler je zaposlio 16 muškaraca: osam belaca, osam crnaca.
They were to be his seed group, his future foremen. He had installed the heavy equipment for his new process in an abandoned store in the vicinity of Kings Mountain, and for two months these 16 men would live and work together, mastering the new process. He gathered them together after an initial tour of that facility and he asked if there were any questions. There was hemming and hawing and shuffling of feet, and then one of the white workers stepped forward and said, "Well, yeah. We’ve looked at this place and there's only one place to sleep, there's only one place to eat, there's only one bathroom, there's only one water fountain. Is this plant going to be integrated or what?" Mr. Teszler said, "You are being paid twice the wages of any other textile workers in this region and this is how we do business. Do you have any other questions?" "No, I reckon I don't." And two months later when the main plant opened and hundreds of new workers, white and black, poured in to see the facility for the first time, they were met by the 16 foremen, white and black, standing shoulder to shoulder. They toured the facility and were asked if there were any questions, and inevitably the same question arose: "Is this plant integrated or what?" And one of the white foremen stepped forward and said, "You are being paid twice the wages of any other workers in this industry in this region and this is how we do business. Do you have any other questions?"
Oni su bili njegova udarna ekipa, buduće poslovođe. Ugradio je tešku opremu za svoj novi proces u napuštenom skloništu u blizini Kings Mauntina i dva meseca ovih 16 muškaraca je trebalo da živi radi zajedno, savlađujući novi proces. Okupio ih je nakon prvog obilaska postrojenja i pitao ih je imaju li neka pitanja. Bilo je oklevanja i prebacivanja s noge na nogu a onda je jedan beli radnik istupio i rekao: "Naravno. Pogledali smo ovo mesto i imate samo jedno mesto za spavanje, jedno mesto za obedovanje, jedno kupatilo, jednu česmu s vodom. Hoće li ova fabrika da bude integrisana ili šta?" G. Tesler je odgovorio: "Plaćeni ste dvostruko više od bilo kog tekstilnog radnika u regionu a mi ovako poslujemo. Imate li drugih pitanja?" "Ne, valjda nemam." I dva meseca kasnije, kada je otvorena glavna fabrika i na stotine novih radnika, crnaca i belaca, se slilo da prvi put vide postrojenje, dočekalo ih je 16 poslovođa, crnaca i belaca, kako stoje rame uz rame. Obišli su postrojenje i pitali su ih imaju li neka pitanja, i i neizbežno se javilo isto pitanje: "Je li ova fabrika integrisana ili šta?" A jedan od belih poslovođa je istupio i rekao: "Plaćeni ste dvostruko više od bilo kog radnika u ovoj industriji u ovoj oblasti, a mi ovako poslujemo. Imate li još pitanja?"
And there were none. In one fell swoop, Mr. Teszler had integrated the textile industry in that part of the South. It was an achievement worthy of Mahatma Gandhi, conducted with the shrewdness of a lawyer and the idealism of a saint. In his eighties, Mr. Teszler, having retired from the textile industry, adopted Wofford College, auditing courses every semester, and because he had a tendency to kiss anything that moved, becoming affectionately known as "Opi" -- which is Magyar for grandfather -- by all and sundry. Before I got there, the library of the college had been named for Mr. Teszler, and after I arrived in 1993, the faculty decided to honor itself by naming Mr. Teszler Professor of the College -- partly because at that point he had already taken all of the courses in the catalog, but mainly because he was so conspicuously wiser than any one of us. To me, it was immensely reassuring that the presiding spirit of this little Methodist college in upstate South Carolina was a Holocaust survivor from Central Europe. Wise he was, indeed, but he also had a wonderful sense of humor. And once for an interdisciplinary class, I was screening the opening segment of Ingmar Bergman's "The Seventh Seal." As the medieval knight Antonius Block returns from the wild goose chase of the Crusades and arrives on the rocky shore of Sweden, only to find the specter of death waiting for him, Mr. Teszler sat in the dark with his fellow students. And as death opened his cloak to embrace the knight in a ghastly embrace, I heard Mr. Teszler's tremulous voice: "Uh oh," he said, "This doesn't look so good." (Laughter)
Nije bilo više pitanja. Jednim naletom, g. Tesler je integrisao tekstilnu industriju u tom delu Juga. Bilo je to dostignuće dostojno Mahatme Gandija, izvedeno prepredenošću advokata i idealizmom sveca. U svojim 80-im, nakon što se g. Tesler povukao iz tekstilne industrije, upisao se na fakultet Voford, slušajući predmete svakog semestra i, kako je imao sklonost da ljubi sve što se pokreće, s naklonošću su ga svi i svja zvali "Opi" - što na mađarskom znači deda. Pre nego što sam stigao tamo, fakultetska biblioteka je nazvana po g. Tesleru i kada sam stigao 1993, fakultet je odlučio da oda sebi počast imenujući g. Teslera profesorom - delimično jer je u tom momentu već odslušao sve predmete iz kataloga, ali uglavnom jer je toliko bilo upadljivo da je mudriji od svih nas. Za mene je to bilo ohrabrujuće da je vodeća duša ovog malenog metodističkog fakulteta na severu Južne Karoline, pripadala preživelom iz Holokausta, poreklom iz Centralne Evrope. Uistinu je bio mudar, ali je takođe imao predivan smisao za humor. Jednom sam na međudisciplinarnom predavanju prikazivao uvodnu scenu Ingmar Bergmanovog "Sedmog pečata". Dok se srednjovekovni vitez Antonius Blok vraća iz suludih traganja Krstaških ratova i stiže na stenovite obale Švedske, jedino zatiče sablast smrti kako ga čeka, g. Tesler je sedeo u mraku s kolegama studentima. I kako je smrt raširila svoj plašt da zagrli viteza zagrljajem strave, čuo sam drhtavi glas g. Teslera: "O ne", rekao je, "ovo ne vuče na dobro." (Smeh)
But it was music that was his greatest passion, especially opera. And on the first occasion that I visited his house, he gave me honor of deciding what piece of music we would listen to. And I delighted him by rejecting "Cavalleria Rusticana" in favor of Bela Bartok's "Bluebeard's Castle." I love Bartok's music, as did Mr. Teszler, and he had virtually every recording of Bartok's music ever issued. And it was at his house that I heard for the first time Bartok's Third Piano Concerto and learned from Mr. Teszler that it had been composed in nearby Asheville, North Carolina in the last year of the composer's life. He was dying of leukemia and he knew it, and he dedicated this concerto to his wife, Dita, who was herself a concert pianist. And into the slow, second movement, marked "adagio religioso," he incorporated the sounds of birdsong that he heard outside his window in what he knew would be his last spring; he was imagining a future for her in which he would play no part. And clearly this composition is his final statement to her -- it was first performed after his death -- and through her to the world. And just as clearly, it is saying, "It's okay. It was all so beautiful. Whenever you hear this, I will be there."
Međutim, muzika je bila njegova najveća strast, naročito opera. I kada sam ga prvi put posetio kod kuće, dodelio mi je čast da odlučim koji muzički komad ćemo da slušamo. I ja sam ga oduševio odbijanjem "Cavalleria Rusticana-e" u korist "Dvorca Riđobradog" od Bele Bartoka. Volim Bartokovu muziku, baš kao što je i g. Tesler voleo i on je posedovao skoro sve zapise Bartokove muzike koji su ikad izdati. I u njegovoj sam kući prvi put poslušao Bartokov "Treći klavirski koncert" i saznao sam od g. Teslera da ga je Bartok komponovao u blizini Ešvila u Severnoj Karolini, poslednje godine kompozitorovog života. Umirao je od leukemije i znao je to i posvetio je ovaj koncert svojoj supruzi Diti, koja je i sama bila koncertna pijanistkinja. A u sporom, drugom stavu, označenom kao "adagio religioso", ubacio je zvuke ptičje pesme koje je čuo spolja kroz prozor, znajući da mu je to poslednje proleće; zamišljao je njenu budućnost, u kojoj on neće imati nikakvu ulogu. I jasno je da je ova kompozicija njegova poslednja izjava ljubavi - prvi put je izvedena nakon njegove smrti - i preko nje ga je čuo svet. A tako jasno, on je poručivao: "U redu je. Sve je bilo tako lepo. Kad god čuješ ovo, biću tu."
It was only after Mr. Teszler's death that I learned that the marker on the grave of Bela Bartok in Hartsdale, New York was paid for by Sandor Teszler. "Jó napot, Bela!" Not long before Mr. Teszler’s own death at the age of 97, he heard me hold forth on human iniquity. I delivered a lecture in which I described history as, on the whole, a tidal wave of human suffering and brutality, and Mr. Teszler came up to me afterwards with gentle reproach and said, "You know, Doctor, human beings are fundamentally good." And I made a vow to myself, then and there, that if this man who had such cause to think otherwise had reached that conclusion, I would not presume to differ until he released me from my vow. And now he's dead, so I'm stuck with my vow. "Jó napot, Sandor!"
Tek nakon smrti g. Teslera sam saznao da je spomenik na grobu Bele Bartoka u Hartsdejlu u Njujorku platio Šandor Tesler. "Jó napot, Bela!" Nedugo pre nego što će umreti u 97. godini, g. Tesler me je čuo kako javno govorim o ljudskoj grešnosti. Održao sam predavanje u kom sam opisao istoriju, u celini, kao plimni talas ljudske patnje i okrutnosti, a g, Tesler mi je kasnije prišao s nežnim prekorom i rekao: "Znate, doktore, ljudska bića su u suštini dobra." I na tom mestu tada sam se zakleo sebi da, ako je ovaj čovek, koji je imao toliko razloga da misli drugačije, stigao do tog zaključka, neću pretpostavljati drugačije dok me on ne oslobodi moje zakletve. I kako je on sad mrtav, zaglavio sam se sa zakletvom. "Jó napot, Sandor!"
I thought my skein of Hungarian mentors had come to an end, but almost immediately I met Francis Robicsek, a Hungarian doctor -- actually a heart surgeon in Charlotte, North Carolina, then in his late seventies -- who had been a pioneer in open-heart surgery, and, tinkering away in his garage behind his house, had invented many of the devices that are standard parts of those procedures. He's also a prodigious art collector, beginning as an intern in Budapest by collecting 16th- and 17th-century Dutch art and Hungarian painting, and when he came to this country moving on to Spanish colonial art, Russian icons and finally Mayan ceramics. He's the author of seven books, six of them on Mayan ceramics. It was he who broke the Mayan codex, enabling scholars to relate the pictographs on Mayan ceramics to the hieroglyphs of the Mayan script.
Mislio sam da se moje klupko mađarskih mentora razmotalo, ali gotovo momentalno sam upoznao Francisa Robičeka, mađarskog doktora - zapravo kardio hirurga iz Šarlote u Severnoj Karolini, tada u poznim 70-im - koji je bio pionir operacija na otvorenom srcu i vrzmajući se po garaži iza njegove kuće, izumeo je mnoge sprave koje su standardni delovi ovih procedura. On je i strastveni sakupljač umetnina, počeo je kao stažista u Budimpešti sakupiljajući holandske i mađarske slike iz 16. i 17. veka a kada je došao u ovu državu, prešao je na špansku kolonijalističku umetnost, ruske ikone i naposletku na majansku keramiku. Autor je sedam knjiga, od kojih je šest o majanskoj keramici. On je dešifrovao majanski kodeks, omogućujući učenjacima da povežu piktografe na majanskoj keramici s hijeroglifima iz majanskih spisa.
On the occasion of my first visit, we toured his house and we saw hundreds of works of museum quality, and then we paused in front of a closed door and Dr. Robicsek said, with obvious pride, "Now for the piece De resistance." And he opened the door and we walked into a windowless 20-by-20-foot room with shelves from floor to ceiling, and crammed on every shelf his collection of Mayan ceramics. Now, I know absolutely nothing about Mayan ceramics, but I wanted to be as ingratiating as possible so I said, "But Dr. Robicsek, this is absolutely dazzling." "Yes," he said. "That is what the Louvre said. They would not leave me alone until I let them have a piece, but it was not a good one." (Laughter)
Tokom moje prve posete, obišli smo njegovu kuću i videli smo stotine dela, dostojnih muzeja, a zatim smo zastali ispred zatvorenih vrata i dr Robiček je rekao, s očiglednim ponosom: "A sad delić Otpora." I otvorio je vrata i ušli smo u prostoriju bez prozora, šest sa šest, s policama od poda do tavanice, a svaka polica je bila natrpana njegovom kolekcijom majanske keramike. E sad, ja apsolutno ništa ne znam o majanskoj keramici, ali sam želeo da budem što umilniji, pa sam rekao: "Ali, dr Robiček, ovo je apsolutno očaravajuće." "Jeste", rekao je. "Tako je i Luvr rekao. Nisu me ostavljali na miru dok im nisam dao jedan komad, ali nisam im dao dobar komad." (Smeh)
Well, it occurred to me that I should invite Dr. Robicsek to lecture at Wofford College on -- what else? -- Leonardo da Vinci. And further, I should invite him to meet my oldest trustee, who had majored in French history at Yale some 70-odd years before and, at 89, still ruled the world's largest privately owned textile empire with an iron hand. His name is Roger Milliken. And Mr. Milliken agreed, and Dr. Robicsek agreed. And Dr. Robicsek visited and delivered the lecture and it was a dazzling success. And afterwards we convened at the President's House with Dr. Robicsek on one hand, Mr. Milliken on the other. And it was only at that moment, as we were sitting down to dinner, that I recognized the enormity of the risk I had created, because to bring these two titans, these two masters of the universe together -- it was like introducing Mothra to Godzilla over the skyline of Tokyo. If they didn't like each other, we could all get trampled to death.
Pa mi je palo na pamet da bi trebalo da pozovem dr Robičeka da održi predavanje na fakultetu Voford, o čemu drugom, već o Leonardu da Vinčiju. Štaviše, trebalo bi da ga pozovem da upozna mog najstarijeg poverenika, koji je diplomirao francusku istoriju na Jejlu pre nekih 70 godina i u 89. je i dalje vladao olovnom rukom najvećim tekstilnim carstvom u privatnom vlasništvu. On se zove Rodžer Miliken. I g. Miliken je pristao, i dr Robiček je pristao. A dr Robiček je došao u posetu i održao predavanje i bio je to očaravajući uspeh. A kasnije smo se okupili u predsedničkoj kući s dr Robičekom s jedne i g. Milikenom s druge strane. I tek sam u tom momentu, kako smo sedali da večeramo, shvatio ogromnu opasnost koju sam stvorio, jer spajajući ova dva titana, ova dva gospodara univerzuma bilo je poput upoznavanja Motra i Godzile iznad nebeskog horizonta Tokija. Ukoliko se ne svide jedan drugom, svi bismo mogli da budemo na smrt izgaženi.
But they did, they did like each other. They got along famously until the very end of the meal, and then they got into a furious argument. And what they were arguing about was this: whether the second Harry Potter movie was as good as the first. (Laughter) Mr. Milliken said it was not. Dr. Robicsek disagreed. I was still trying to take in the notion that these titans, these masters of the universe, in their spare time watch Harry Potter movies, when Mr. Milliken thought he would win the argument by saying, "You just think it's so good because you didn't read the book." And Dr. Robicsek reeled back in his chair, but quickly gathered his wits, leaned forward and said, "Well, that is true, but I'll bet you went to the movie with a grandchild." "Well, yes, I did," conceded Mr. Milliken. "Aha!" said Dr. Robicsek. "I went to the movie all by myself." (Laughter) (Applause)
Međutim zaista su se svideli jedan drugom. Bajno su se slagali sve do samog kraja večere, a onda su zapali u žučnu raspravu. A raspravljali su se o sledećem: da li je drugi film o Hariju Poteru podjednako dobar kao prvi. (Smeh) G. Miliken je rekao da nije. Dr Robiček se nije slagao s tim. Ja sam i dalje pokušavao da dođem sebi da ova dva titana, ovi gospodari univerzuma, u slobodno vreme gledaju Harija Potera, kada je g. Miliken, verujući da će pobediti u raspravi, rekao: "Ti samo misliš da je tako dobar jer nisi čitao knjigu." A dr Robiček se zateturao na stolici, no brzo se sabrao, nagao napred i rekao: "Pa, to je istina, ali verujem da si ti išao da gledaš film s unučetom." "Pa, jesam", složio se g. Miliken. "Aha!" rekao je dr Robiček. "Ja sam išao u bioskop sam." (Smeh) (Aplauz)
And I realized, in this moment of revelation, that what these two men were revealing was the secret of their extraordinary success, each in his own right. And it lay precisely in that insatiable curiosity, that irrepressible desire to know, no matter what the subject, no matter what the cost, even at a time when the keepers of the Doomsday Clock are willing to bet even money that the human race won't be around to imagine anything in the year 2100, a scant 93 years from now. "Live each day as if it is your last," said Mahatma Gandhi. "Learn as if you'll live forever." This is what I'm passionate about. It is precisely this. It is this inextinguishable, undaunted appetite for learning and experience, no matter how risible, no matter how esoteric, no matter how seditious it might seem. This defines the imagined futures of our fellow Hungarians -- Robicsek, Teszler and Bartok -- as it does my own. As it does, I suspect, that of everybody here.
I ja sam u ovom trenutku otkrovenja shvatio da su ova dva čoveka otkrivala tajnu svog neverovatnog uspeha, svaki na svoj način. A ona je počivala baš u toj nezajažljivoj znatiželjnosti, toj neodoljivoj žudnji za znanjem, bez obzira na to šta je u pitanju, bez obzira na cenu, čak i onda kada čuvari sata sudnjeg dana budu oklevali da stave ma cent na to da će ljudska rasa biti tu da zamisli bilo šta 2100. godine, tričave 93 godine unapred. "Živi svaki dan kao da ti je poslednji", rekao je Mahatma Gandi. "Uči kao da ćeš živeti večno." Ovo je moja strast. Baš ovo. Ovaj neutaljivi, neustrašivi apetit za učenjem i iskustvom, ma koliko bio za podsmeh, ma koliko bio ezoteričan, ma koliko se buntovnim činio. Ovo definiše zamišljene budućnosti naše braće Mađara - Robičeka, Teslera i Bartoka - koliko definiše i moju. Koliko definiše, kako mi se čini, budućnost svih vas ovde.
To which I need only add, "Ez a mi munkank; es nem is keves." This is our task; we know it will be hard. "Ez a mi munkank; es nem is keves. Jó napot, pacák!" (Applause)
Na šta moram samo da dodam: "Ez a mi munkank; es nem is keves." Ovo je naš zadatak; znamo da će da bude težak. "Ez a mi munkank; es nem is keves. Jó napot, pacák!"