Keeper Of The Mountains (6 page)

But Elizabeth's tendency to speak her mind landed her in trouble with the Post-War Council – a messy situation ensued that resulted in her being “relieved” of her job as chairman. She was strongly criticized because she had supported a policy decision that no member of the council could appear on stage with guest speakers – and then she broke that rule. She was subsequently viewed as a self-promoter, asked to step down and then offered the position of executive secretary-treasurer as consolation. Disappointed and humiliated, she confided to her mother that the process “left your little daughter a much sadder and wiser person.” She was soon demoted again, this time to program chair. Nevertheless, she continued to pour energy into the organization because she believed its work had value.

Elizabeth relied on her mother not only for intellectual sparring but also for practical needs. In addition to continuing to buy her clothes for her in New York, her mother was also in charge of mending them, which in January 1943 happened to be a sock. Elizabeth's quirky sense of humour was in evidence as she sent a single green sock home and begged her mother to mend it because it was “vital” to her wardrobe. Her mother teased her about this attachment to a sock, but Elizabeth defended herself, explaining that her mother obviously didn't know her socks: “I have them so well trained that when I whistle one tune the green ones come out, and when I whistle a different tune another colour comes out.” And she constantly pleaded with her mother to send her care packages of food: “It would be grand if some day a box of lemon cookies or some fudge or something came for no apparent reason except that you acted like a normal parent with her child away in school and sent her something extra to eat!” She wasn't afraid to ask for what she wanted.

Elizabeth was elated in February 1943 when the academic committee approved her plan to do honours work in history. They took her grades into consideration as well as her considerable efforts in producing a term paper on the causes of war. Elizabeth was pleased with the paper, as it proved to her that she could work independently,
do her own research and come to her own coherent conclusions. In this case, it was a complicated subject for a 19-year-old to tackle, but she did it well, digging beyond the superficial to argue that the psychological state of people's minds made them willing to fight, thereby facilitating war. She concluded that, in order to prevent war, it wasn't the incidents that needed to be prevented, but rather the state-of-mind factors that should be eliminated.

Her mother challenged her, maintaining that if people could learn to live under law and order and regard war as taboo, peace would be achieved. But Elizabeth insisted that this was a restrictive point of view, that more could be achieved by concentrating on the “spirit of brotherhood” where people worked toward the same goal: peace. She agreed that law and order were necessary, but achieving real peace required something more creative and dynamic than simply obeying rules.

It was during this time that she began to formulate her thoughts about the role of an historian, an interesting foreshadowing of her future work. It started with an article in the
New York Times
on whether American history should be required study at universities. Elizabeth felt that its required inclusion was irrelevant if it wasn't taught correctly, citing her high-school American history courses, where she had learned facts but not their relative importance or proper perspective. She had learned about the trees, but not the forest. She was beginning to understand that facts were important, but something was needed on which to hang them. She equated the learning of facts to the work of an antiquarian, while the understanding of context was the sign of a true historian. Little did she know that 50 years later many in the mountaineering community would debate these same issues around her life's work documenting the history of Himalayan climbing.

A new man entered her life in the form of Harold Sokwitne, secretary of the Post-War Council. They had many opportunities to work together and they now began seeing each other socially. A tall redhead from Hillsdale, Michigan, he came from a religious background and had intended to follow that line of work himself but had rebelled. The liveliness and conversational abilities of the 20-year-old freshman attracted Elizabeth. She also continued to see Fred, recognizing good points in each of the two strikingly different personalities. Fred was pleasant to be with, but was too complimentary: “He likes my
eyes, he thinks I'm brilliant, he thinks I have great ability.” It was all too much for Elizabeth. Harold (nicknamed Sok), on the other hand, didn't have Fred's polished manners, and he didn't compliment her at all – he was perfectly aware of her faults. But in August 1943 Sok was called for induction into the Naval Air Corps. They had one last wonderful evening together in Detroit and he was off.

By November Elizabeth was paying her own way with an assistant position in the history department. Taking attendance and correcting papers brought her a grand total of $250 per semester. She was proud of herself, partly because of the money, but mostly because of the recognition. In addition to her work for the history department, she was beginning to get speaking opportunities, often arranged by Slosson (whom she now called by his first name, Preston). The local Business and Professional Women's Club, Rotary Clubs and high schools all had the benefit of her keen interest in, and growing knowledge of, international affairs.

Her personal relationship with the Slossons deepened as their working relationship matured. She now spent most Sunday afternoons and evenings with them, frequently staying overnight. In the summer of 1944, against her mother's advice, she moved in with them.

By September of that year, she had wrapped up her classwork. She was excited about her family's arrival for graduation, although her brother John couldn't attend because of a serious illness. After majoring in philosophy at Princeton, John had gone on to medical school at the College of Physicians & Surgeons at Columbia University, where he proved to be a brilliant student. He then joined the Navy, during which time he contracted tuberculosis and was sent to Trudeau Sanatorium near Lake Placid in upper New York State. Because of his illness, he was subsequently discharged from the Navy.

Shortly before graduating, Elizabeth decided to carry on with her studies and immediately begin work on an advanced degree. As a graduate student, she had classes that were much smaller than before or were in an individual-study format. She thrived in this environment.

The tides of war seemed to have changed and she felt a sense of relief. She was beginning to think seriously about her future now, as various ideas presented themselves. One was to enter the service as an officer in training, providing a chance to go overseas and be attached to the Allied military government. Another option was to go
into State Department work, but when she inquired with the State Department she was told that, although they were impressed with her qualifications, returning veterans would fill any openings.

Then an offer arrived for a teaching position at the Oklahoma College for Women. The president of the college told her that their goal was the “development of capable young women with beauty of character, personal charm, gracious manners, and social insight, willing and able to perform successfully the duties of life in their generation.” She considered the offer, although it didn't excite her, in part because of concerns about the overall intellectual atmosphere of the college. But, being practical, she knew it would provide the experience needed to compete successfully against the returning servicemen for good jobs in good universities in the future. Another obvious plus was that the job was permanent, with possibilities for promotion. But the drawbacks were serious: it was a small college in the middle of nowhere, and her mother was dead set against it, skeptical about the quality of life that Oklahoma could provide her daughter. Florelle's opinion prevailed. After college Elizabeth went, not to Oklahoma, but to New York.

As often happens when a long period of intensity nears its end, she had had enough of Ann Arbor and the University of Michigan and was ready to leave, vowing that if she did continue with doctoral studies, it would definitely not be in Ann Arbor. Above all, she was tired and needed a break. A time of rest and relaxation at the country home in Dorset was the solution. The only problem was the lack of a job; Elizabeth was a doer and she liked to have a plan of action. Not having one was a worry.

The Sherlock Holmes of the mountaineering world.

B
efore I met Elizabeth, many people told me about her attention to detail and dogged insistence on getting things right. It's her signa­ture style. Heather Macdonald, Elizabeth's assistant for a couple of years in the 1990s, asserts that Elizabeth insists on knowing the source for every bit of information, grilling climbers to ascertain whether it was 7550 metres or 7555 metres. The climbers might be exhausted and their “brains half-melted” after being at altitude for weeks, Heather remembers, but Elizabeth wouldn't let up. In time, she came to be affectionately known as the Sherlock Holmes of the mountaineering world. Where did this diligence and attention to detail come from? I wondered. Who taught her these techniques and how did she gain the confidence to cross-examine world-class climbers in such an authoritative manner?

Independence is another of her strong traits. Living alone most of her adult life, Elizabeth carved out a place for herself in a new and strange environment. Lady Hillary describes her as “one of the original feminists,” adding that she doubts Elizabeth will thank her for saying it. Heather Macdonald is convinced her early self-confidence grew from her insatiable curiosity. If so, it allowed her to evolve into a woman who is comfortable with high-profile climbers, royalty, government officials and writers. She has an innate sense of protocol. I was curious how this young American woman became so worldly. As she recounted the next decade of her life to me, parts of the mystery were revealed.

Back in New York in 1946, she went job hunting, honours degrees in hand, at a number of organizations and foundations, finally arriving at
Fortune
magazine, part of the publishing family that included Time,
Life
and
Sports Illustrated
. It was her lucky day. They hired her to start immediately as an editorial research trainee, earning $39.40 a week. Researchers were first assigned six months of training in “
the morgue,” where thousands of files on people and issues were kept. Each file had original material – tear sheets, letters, photographs – supporting and informing that particular topic. It was her job to learn what was in those files, to regularly update them from newspaper clippings and other materials, and to access that information whenever the magazine needed it. It's easy to recognize the similarity between the morgue system and Elizabeth's future mountaineering archive.

Unfortunately, there was a not-so-subtle hierarchy at
Fortune
at that time. Without exception, researchers were women and writers were men. Elizabeth saw no way to break that mould. In retrospect, she's not sure she had the makings of a writer, and others agree with her. Former colleagues described her as “brilliant and literal,” but not terribly imaginative. Even as a lowly researcher, however, she found opportunities. Sometimes she travelled with a writer and took notes, and sometimes she travelled alone, doing research in the States as well as in Canada and Brazil. After the writer finished the piece, it would come back to her to be checked – every word required a dot above it to indicate it had been checked, rechecked and cross-checked. It was an arduous system that took considerable time and effort, but it appealed to her sense of order.

She lived in an apartment at 220 Madison Avenue and her first office was in the Empire State Building, later moving to the Time & Life Building in Rockefeller Center. She started her day at about 10:00 or 11:00 a.m., worked until 2:00 a.m. and then walked home. The first thing she did each morning was read the
New York Times
.

From her recent university studies in world politics, she had developed a curiosity about far-off places. That led to an interest in travel and, now that she was working and had a salary, she began to use her annual vacation and unpaid leave to do just that. Her salary was small and she lived frugally, eating a tomato sandwich with mayonnaise for lunch most days. But by living simply she saved enough to travel widely and in good style – usually alone.

Elizabeth's first trip abroad was to England in 1948 when, in October, she boarded the
RMS
Queen Mary
for Southampton. Her first stop was London and all that it had to offer. She loved it: Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, London cabs, the architecture and the fog. Then it was north to Scotland and into the countryside of Wales and
rural England. After all that she had studied and read and observed in movies, it astonished her how different and rich the experience was when seeing it for herself. “Britain is a fascinating place and I'm having the time of my life,” she wrote to her mother.

After cramming in as much of Britain as possible, Elizabeth moved on to immerse herself in the great cities of Europe, including Paris, Rome and Florence. She walked and walked, mentally cataloguing the sounds and smells of the streets, inspecting museums, historical monuments, palaces, gardens and churches.

But it had to end, and it was with reluctance that she sailed home. It had been an unforgettable experience, one she hoped to have again. Her appetite for travel had been whetted in a serious way – back in New York, where it was work and more work, she immediately began scrimping and saving for the next big trip.

But a family tragedy awaited her. Having recovered from tuberculosis and completed his medical degree, John had begun practising as a physician and married Ann, whom he met while doing medical research. They had a child and named him Michael. But John's health took another downturn when he was diagnosed with Hodgkin's disease. After a five-year battle with the disease, Elizabeth's brilliant brother and only sibling died in 1955 at age thirty-five.