Ricardo Rosenberg Part III: Woodstock?

In this installment, Ricardo remembers his university days, the upheaval of Vietnam war protests, and the feeling of no one understanding exactly where he was from.
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(What did you study at Wisconsin?)

Economics. I guess I would add that in retrospect, the whole Wisconsin-Columbia experience was a little bit like the movie Forrest Gump. I mean, I ended up as a spectator of so many events and trends of the times. Wisconsin was the center of all kinds of political activity, I think second only to Berkeley, because Berkeley was really a hotbed of activity in the ‘60s in terms of protest and other new things going on, and Wisconsin was number two. I remember so many things that happened there of great significance. And then I went to Columbia, which became even more of a center and hotbed of anti-Vietnam War activity, to the point that the university was closed at the end of the first year I was there the first time ever that a US university had been closed. It was very interesting to observe all that and to be part of the experience that was happening in the US. The ‘60s was a tremendous upheaval of all kinds, so I really was glad to be able to observe it from up close.

(How did people react to you, your classmates, when they found out you were from El Salvador? Were they interested in knowing more about you?)

Well, they were ignorant. I have a couple of memories: one girl at Wisconsin who heard I was from Salvador and wanted to go out with me just just because of that, never having met me. I had started giving up on saying I was from El Salvador, because nobody knew anything and instead started saying I was from Central America, and until someone responded, “From where, Ohio?” So that made me want to go back to just saying I was from El Salvador. Back then people just had not a clue about El Salvador..

(When you were at boarding school and at college, did you feel the need to go to services on High Holidays or continue your Jewish life?)

Well, Putney was not very geared towards religion, so there was none of that. I also think—I’ve heard a saying that Jewish males more or less disappear from the religion from between their bar mitzvah and their late twenties. And I think I sort of fell in that category. What didn’t help is different experiences we had along the way. I had a roommate at Wisconsin who was Jewish and we decided that it’d be a good thing to go to High Holidays service one year. So somehow we ended up at some temple in Madison, I don’t remember what. I think we were in the first or second row. As often happens, the rabbis were chastising those people who only go for the High Holidays. My roommate and I sort of looked at each other and said, “Well, this is a fine reward!” So I think that was the last time either of us ever did anything. I don’t remember Hillel being that much of a force at Wisconsin. And that was it.

Well, I needed to go to Wisconsin because your mother went to Wisconsin. Then I needed to go to Columbia because your mother went to Columbia. And then I needed to go to Washington D.C.. because that’s where your mother went. So when I got to Columbia, I spent two years there doing coursework and then passed my orals, and then I came to Washington for a summer job which became an eight- or nine-month job. I came for the summer to work for the IMF, and I then the offer was made if I wanted to stay longer, and so I decided I would, because I was having a great time here, and I stayed till February and then went back to New York.

(Did you worry about marrying a Jewish girl?)

No, I didn’t—“worry” is the wrong word. I think the idea of marrying somebody was an issue in itself. I think I more or less gravitated to dating Jewish girls anyway, a lot of the time anyway.

(But that wasn’t a prerequisite for you?)

I think it was preferable. “Prerequisite” probably is a strong word. I wouldn’t have ruled it out, let’s say.

(So you meet Nancy. What year is that?)

1969.

(And then you’re married in—?)

’73.

(And when did you introduce her to the Salvador half of your—?)

Pretty quickly. We met in 1969. I think she came—it was Christmas of 1970. But just a brief detour of 1969: Nancy decided that for my birthday in ’69 that she would get—she got us tickets to a rock concert. So I get in the car and stop in New York and we kind of very casually get up the next morning to go to the rock concert. Well, this was Woodstock, and we were completely unprepared. There was no CNN, no 24-news of any kind. We get up in the morning and reliably Nancy had to stop to go to the bathroom, so we stopped at a gas station. She came out with these incredible stories which we were totally unaware of: twenty-mile backups in terms of traffic, pouring rain, no water, no food, no whatever. So we turned around and went back. Because Woodstock was happening, and by then it was completely out of control, and we just plainly were not aware of it. Somewhere in the attic or the basement are the tickets, which are probably worth of lot of money. But we never did make it.

(You never made it to Woodstock?)

Yeah. So she does owe me a birthday present.

Transcript by Sandy Adler, Adler Enterprises LLC.