Tuesday, October 16, 2018
On my first day of grad school, I walked into a large lecture hall for the class I was assigned to TA, and sat down. About three minutes later, a man in all black - leather jacket and cowboy hat and all - strode into the room and immediately commanded it. It was a freshman American literature class. His first words: "What's the most powerful weapon the human race ever created?"
Some intrepid freshman raised his hand, and when called on, belted out with certainty, "the nuclear bomb."
"No. The bomb is a blunt force object. Next?"
Everyone sat there perplexed until Pindell elaborated: "The most powerful weapon in our arsenal is a story. If you can get someone to listen to you, you can get them to do anything."
He was a master storyteller, and within 2 minutes had a room full of 200 students in the palm of his hand. It was astonishing to watch.
I became very good friends with him, and would visit him years after grad school when I was practicing law. He teased me mercilessly for "going straight." "Owen, where are your white shoes?" We'd then eat dinner and talk Kirkegaard and Nietzsche and Abrose Bierce.
I recently left the practice of law and returned to teaching. I'd be lying if I said I don't steal from Pindell in every session; I only hope I teach well enough to make him proud.
He was one of the best - and most complicated - men I've ever known. The world is now a poorer place. Love you, Pindell.
