Karolyn Gould of New York City is alive and cheerful, so I'm not going to write a eulogy for her. But the 80-year-old knows that her time with us is drawing to a close on account of cancer, so I thought that I should pen an appreciation of one of the most extraordinary persons I have met in my six decades of being on the same planet as her.
So extraordinary, in fact, that her list of accomplishments in bringing positive change to the lives of poor children and youth, and to dispossessed and abused women in New York — particularly in notoriously dilapidated and crime-infested South Bronx neighbourhoods — would warrant a book. She has long advised and assisted Indian and other immigrants to America as well. I wish she had written her story herself, for Karolyn has a powerful voice that inevitably touches those who hear it.
I was one of those who heard that voice more than four decades ago. It would be fair to say that Karolyn, and her husband, Bruce — now a retired judge — along with the late, legendary editor of the New York Times , Abe Rosenthal, were among the dominant figures who shaped my journalistic life and my value system.
So, you see, I could write a book about Karolyn myself, and perhaps one day I will. But I want her to get a sense in print about how I feel about her and how she has touched tens of thousands of lives over these long years. Of course, I think she knows; for now, however, I want to send her a journalistic valentine.
That's the least I can do for a woman who asked for nothing in return for her warmth and wisdom, her caring and cautions, her advice and assistance. Karolyn is a serial giver. My very first front-page story for the New York Times , in fact, began in her apartment. A then colleague, David K. Shipler — who later won the Pulitzer Prize for his book on Arab and Jews — suggested that there was a feature to be done on how the celebrated Macy's Thanksgiving Day balloons were filled with helium the night before on the street on which the Goulds lived. David had known Bruce, at that time a well-known housing lawyer in New York; David covered the housing beat at the time.
Americans take their Thanksgiving Day very seriously: it marks the day that the Pilgrims from Britain first landed on the shores of what was to eventually become the United States of America. The annual Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York is televised nationally; it features huge balloons representing various Walt Disney characters; it also features celebrities who ride atop floats and perform songs.
In the event, I learned that marking “The Night Before Thanksgiving Day” in November was a traditional event in the Gould household. It certainly was a night to remember when I went for my story: it was bitterly cold; there were thick crowds lining the pavements of West 77th Street between Central Park West and Columbus Avenue; vendors of hot coffee, warm donuts and roasted chestnuts did brisk business; each time a balloon resembling Mickey Mouse or Pluto filled up, there would be applause.
The best view of the action, of course, was from the Goulds' large apartment on the 12th floor. Down below was West 77th Street; inside the home, there was an endless supply of hot chocolate and cakes and savouries. The Goulds had an open-door policy: anyone could come in, and everyone did. At times, the apartment seemed as packed as the street below. Karolyn Gould was indefatigable as a hostess. I marvelled at her patience and good cheer. Her children — Tom, Roger, Sarah and Melinda — who were very young at the time, were joyous participants in the tableaux.
I wrote my story the next morning, bleary-eyed but determined to churn out a good yarn, and the following morning it appeared on the front page of the New York Times . In my heart, I dedicated it to Karolyn and Bruce Gould: they had truly helped launch my career. In American journalism, at least, a front-page story in newspapers is akin to winning a medal. At the New York Times , a front-page story is like winning a gold one.
In years to come, there were many more gold medals to be won, but that first one was the sweetest — and for that, I owe the Goulds. Both Karolyn and Bruce were behind some of the front-pagers that I produced — through their tips, their ideas, and often their active assistance in reaching the right sources and getting access to valuable research.
Bruce Gould went on to become a housing-court judge in New York. Karolyn's career flourished: She worked for CARE, creating the agency's initial technical assistance programme as a complement to its food programme. She was involved with the U.S. Office of Economic Opportunity (OEO) as Head Start Coordinator for New York City, and joint developer of New York City's Family Day-Care Programme. She served as founder, board member, staff or consultant to numerous national and local non-government agencies for programmes for the disadvantaged. These programmes included New York City's Agenda for Children Tomorrow (ACT) Oversight Committee, Jobs for Youth, National Committee on the Employment of Youth, the National Committee on the Education of Migrant Children, the Committee for Economic Development, and the Bronx Museum of the Arts.
If social work has been Karolyn's vocation, then museums have been her passion. No surprise there: The Goulds' apartment overlooks the American Museum of Natural History. The Gould children — now married adults with nine children of their own — spent vast amounts of time there. Little wonder that each became a successful professional. Karolyn and Bruce Gould were model parents.
They were a model because, among other critical things, they taught that knowledge was worth acquiring not only for its academic value but also because of life benefit. They taught that diverse knowledge helped shape a person's moral beliefs and tolerance. They taught that the pursuit of knowledge was a high adventure in which everyone was an equal player. The Goulds taught that hailing from an elite background or from an immigrant one did not matter one bit when it came to seeking knowledge. They taught that what really mattered was curiosity, the urge to know more about our world and the worlds beyond — and, perhaps most importantly, the world within each of us.
Lovely lessons these. They are sufficient for anyone's lifetime. And Karolyn Gould has taught them all her life.
(Pranay Gupte's new book, Dubai: The Journey, to be published by Viking Penguin, will be unveiled on March 10 at the Emirates Airline Festival of Literature in Dubai.)
