The message here could be summed up as: You've come a long way, baby, but you've still got a long way to go. In this appraisal of the status of women in science, Columbia sociologists Zuckerman and Cole, together with Bruer (president of the McDonnell Foundation), have collected papers from Macy Foundation symposia of the mid-80's that provide rich and penetrating, if sometimes divergent, analyses of what has happened to women since the civil- rights and women's movements, and how this compares with the earlier status quo. No question, women have made gains; they are accepted routinely in medical, law, and business schools, though readers may be startled to find that former Supreme Court Justice and Columbia Law School Dean Harlan Stone, when asked why Columbia did not admit women, said, ``We don't because we don't.'' Moreover, the analyses indicate that women who combine marriage and motherhood do as well or better than single women in terms of research productivity. But for women in general, the gaps remain: They are slower to rise in the academic hierarchy; they are more often appointed as research associates than as regular faculty; they collaborate less and head fewer big laboratories. Even when ``all else is equal,'' women scientists produce fewer papers with fewer citations than their male counterparts. Many are the reasons proposed for the career and paper gaps, most notably a ``theory of limited differences'' presented by Jonathan Cole and Burton Singer that appears to be the sociological equivalent of nonlinear events in theories of chaos: i.e., small differences at the outset of a career (e.g., fewer thesis mentors available for women in prestigious graduate schools where some top dogs still refuse to accept women) accumulate over the years, producing a fanning-out effect that shows up in lesser achievements and productivity as measured by published papers. Overall, a stimulating collection and much food for thought, which one hopes will generate even more current updates and action.
Privately published by Strunk of Cornell in 1918 and revised by his student E. B. White in 1959, that "little book" is back again with more White updatings.
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis (whoops — "A bankrupt expression") a unique guide (which means "without like or equal").
Noted jazz and pop record producer Thiele offers a chatty autobiography. Aided by record-business colleague Golden, Thiele traces his career from his start as a ``pubescent, novice jazz record producer'' in the 1940s through the '50s, when he headed Coral, Dot, and Roulette Records, and the '60s, when he worked for ABC and ran the famous Impulse! jazz label. At Coral, Thiele championed the work of ``hillbilly'' singer Buddy Holly, although the only sessions he produced with Holly were marred by saccharine strings. The producer specialized in more mainstream popsters like the irrepressibly perky Teresa Brewer (who later became his fourth wife) and the bubble-machine muzak-meister Lawrence Welk. At Dot, Thiele was instrumental in recording Jack Kerouac's famous beat- generation ramblings to jazz accompaniment (recordings that Dot's president found ``pornographic''), while also overseeing a steady stream of pop hits. He then moved to the Mafia-controlled Roulette label, where he observed the ``silk-suited, pinky-ringed'' entourage who frequented the label's offices. Incredibly, however, Thiele remembers the famously hard-nosed Morris Levy, who ran the label and was eventually convicted of extortion, as ``one of the kindest, most warm-hearted, and classiest music men I have ever known.'' At ABC/Impulse!, Thiele oversaw the classic recordings of John Coltrane, although he is the first to admit that Coltrane essentially produced his own sessions. Like many producers of the day, Thiele participated in the ownership of publishing rights to some of the songs he recorded; he makes no apology for this practice, which he calls ``entirely appropriate and without any ethical conflicts.'' A pleasant, if not exactly riveting, memoir that will be of most interest to those with a thirst for cocktail-hour stories of the record biz. (25 halftones, not seen)