Tuesday, May 7, 1968
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
9
The Waxes find unity in their diversity
Like all their days in that summer of 1948 at the University of Chicago, the day Rosalie and Murray Wax applied for a marriage license was a busy one.
The first half of that day, Rosalie was quizzed for her orals for her doctorate. During the second half of the day, they got their marriage license.
After they were married, Mr. and Mrs. Wax continued their lives of scholarship together, studying everything from American Indians to Scandinavian literature.
Murray Wax is now a KU professor of sociology. Rosalie Wax, a professor of anthropology.
When one gets to know these KU professors, perhaps after several visits to their huge stucco home just down the street from the Chancellor's, one receives the confused impression that this duo has spent several incarnations doing everything they talk about.
For two years, they lived on a Cherokee Indian reservation in northeast Oklahoma, where they studied the public schools of the tribe, and picked up Weaselbear, the "ugliest, most miserable hound I'd ever seen," Murray Wax said.
They focused their studies on older persons during two years of gerontology research in Miami. There, they inculped in one of Mrs. Wax's favorite sports—deepsea fishing.
In Chicago, Murray Wax conducted social surveys to discover why women prefer certain brands of shampoo over others.
"He knows a lot about women," was a sly aside from his wife.
There are many things she knows a lot about, too.
"I'll never forget the time when the camp administration sprayed tear-gas all over those striking Japanese-Americans," Mrs. Wax said about her social research in Japanese-American camps in Arizona during World War II.
As a high school drop-out during the depression, she persuaded her principal to illegally give her a diploma so she could enter college.
"I got the grand notion I could do anything I wanted," she said.
It seems to have turned out that way.
"You have to be willing to try anything," summed up Mr. Wax as he crossed his legs Indian-style in a wooden rocker, fingered his unbuttoned button-down collar, and peered at his
wife through black-rimmed spectacles.
"Specialization destroys people," he said.
Mrs. Wax knitted another Viking ship into the green and brown blanket on her lap and tickled the belly of Weaselbear's eight-month-old mongrel pup which was chewing on the blanket.
Every morning those hands hold a pencil or pound a typewriter as she writes a book on field work in sociology and anthropology, based on her experiences.
Mr. Wax also is writing a book, drawing from their work with American Indians, dealing with this group as a minority in American life.
"We could make more money elsewhere," Wax said matter-offactly. "We've been offered the positions of departmental heads in other universities, but we like KU, and we're going to stay here for a while."
Their intense focus on education results from far-flung interests, an emphasis on scholarship in their families while they were growing up, and a desire to excel in each area which catches their attention.
about their experiences, research and field work, one of their favorite topics being religion and magic.
They're nomads at home, too. "We camp all over the house," Wax said. "We move from room to room. Right now the master bedroom is my study. Rosalie works on her book in the dining room. The kiln has taken over the garage. And all of Rosalie's pottery stuff is spread all over the clothes washing area in the basement."
No one would be too surprised if they moved on. They've been transients all their lives, having
In addition to a vast informal education, Mr. Wax has received a bachelor's degree in mathematics, a master's in philosophy, and a doctorate in sociology. Mrs. Wax has received all three degrees in anthropology.
"We try to write very carefully and compactly. We don't especially try to become well-known through our writing. It is better to do good work, although if we live long enough and keep publishing, people will find out about what we're writing about."
Wax grinned, for he was aware of the smugness of his statement.
Just after Wax finished a quiet diatribe against world problems, ranging from Nazism to the Viet Cong, the telephone rang. Someone wanted to discuss Scandinavian folk-lore with Mrs. Wax.
Then the black cat, Katarina the Great (named after a woman of loose morals, Wax said), fell off the table.
Wax reached for a bottle of amber Benedictine wine.
They're nomads at home, too.
studied, taught or researched in Pennsylvania, Illinois, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Georgia, Florida, Kansas, Arizona, California and Missouri.
"A fine liquor," he sighed, pouring a goblet full.
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