Rebel Without a Cause

by Robert M. Lindner

  The church used to have little carnivals visiting them once a year so we’d hang around this carnival for about a week, going to find out what we could in different tents. There was one tent we peeked in one time where a girl was changing into a bathing suit, but she was always behind a screen and we only saw a shadow, just a shadow, that’s all …

  THE TWENTY-SEVENTH HOUR

  Well, I don’t know; I dislike coming into this room anymore. It’s starting to wear on me I guess.

  L: ‘Harold, I want you to know this. Your dislike to come into this room and the fact that it is starting to wear on you have a sound reason behind them. And the reason is this; it is a sign of strong resistance. In other words, you are framing a line of resistance against disclosing certain things it is perhaps more comfortable and less embarrassing to repress, keep hidden, even from yourself. The only way you can conquer that is to do it anyhow. The final benefits to you will be greater in proportion to the amount of resistance you can overcome. Do you understand?’

  Yes. I do.…

  I had a dream a few days ago. I was dreaming I had four or five teeth in my mouth with large holes in them, so I wanted to go to a dentist to have them fixed. He wanted to pull them but I wanted him to fill them. I don’t know whether he filled them or not. I was arguing with him: I didn’t want him to pull them. It was right here in the hospital. I dreamed it was this place and I came to this dentist. I don’t recall which of my teeth had holes in them, there were four or five of them, and they were large holes.

  L: ‘Can you associate to any of the objects or events in the dream?’

  On the outside I never had any teeth filled. I would let them go until they started bothering me or turned black. Then I had them pulled out. I used to be afraid to go to the dentist, afraid to hear the buzzing drill I guess. It frightens me somehow. When I do go through with the ordeal I feel like a brave man, and kind of shaky.

  L: ‘What possible interpretation can you give to the dream? You know by now that in a dream certain objects perhaps symbolize things or people. What significance does this dream hold for you, Harold?’

  I don’t think that the teeth have anything to do with people, but maybe they stand for people that were around me. I didn’t want them around me; I wanted to clear the matter up.

  L: ‘Yet you went to the dentist?’

  Yes; but he wanted to pull them; I wanted them fixed.

  L: ‘In other words, he wanted to use a more drastic method?’

  Yes; drastic. It might represent people. I don’t like people very much. They disturb me; they irritate me; I don’t want anybody around me. When he wanted to pull the teeth I wanted them fixed. It was different from my usual way.

  L: ‘You wanted to preserve your teeth, allow them to remain in your mouth?’

  I suppose you mean preserve things as they are. I guess it’s that I want to keep my eyes in the same condition and not get myself fixed up.

  L: ‘Your teeth were in bad condition; they had holes in them, and you …’

  That may represent certain things in my past history that I haven’t discussed completely or haven’t told you about, I guess.

  L: ‘And the dentist?’

  He wants to bring them out and not cover them up.

  L: ‘And whom do you think the dentist represented?’

  The dentist represented—you, I suppose. It seems all jumbled up to me. I have an uncle outside who is a dentist: he fixed several of my teeth. I was always afraid of the dentist. I would rather have the teeth hurting me than have them taken out.

  You probably figure that the reason I’m acting lost is that I indulged in some abnormal sexual activities. I don’t know why I am lost; I don’t know why you think I am lost. You didn’t say so but I think you sometimes think that. I am trying to figure it out. I didn’t

  These words were uttered in a vindictive, almost baleful manner, reflecting the negative transference that had developed out of Harold’s sincere attempts to overcome the resistance.

  like to associate with people. I don’t like them. I’d walk on the streets with my head down so I wouldn’t have to look at them. They probably figured that I didn’t want them to look at me, but I just didn’t want to see them.

  I don’t like people with hair on their bodies, all over their chests and their arms. They seem to me like animals that didn’t get all the hair off them, like fur. My father, he was big-chested and he looked like a gorilla. When he looked at me I would avoid his glances. I disliked him. Some people tell me I am shy and timid but I don’t believe so. I guess my father always looked on me as his son. He must have given some thought to me. I disliked him, for what reason I don’t know, even when I was older, old enough to realize what some of these things are about. I realize my father and mother are married and when I was old enough to understand what marriage is composed of I don’t think I looked at things in such a sense. I can remember that even before I was ten my father always appeared the same to me as he does now. I dislike his physical appearance I guess, and perhaps because sometimes he would holler at my mother. I used to get angry about that. I don’t know whether or not he ever beat my sister but I know he gave me more than one good licking. He works hard; he doesn’t smoke or drink. He drove a truck for some company when I was around nine and one day he went to take a load of wood to somebody’s house. I remember I got in the way and got hurt. He said something I didn’t like to hear. He said, “Why don’t you watch where the hell you’re going, you blind one!” He said it in Polish. I don’t think I ever went with him again. He begged me to go along with him when he got his new car to see how it rides but I didn’t go.

  I remember the first dog we ever had. Her name was Nellie. He brought her home one night and never said where he got her. She would follow him around every place he went.

  Sometimes when I got in a fight with some kid, he would find out about it. He’d give me a beating for fighting, and then he would complain that I was like a girl and would never fight.

  I just dimly recall how we moved from P—— on a truck my father owned. We drove for a couple of days and one night. The first night we stopped at a farmhouse. I remember stopping there in the dark and going away the next morning. My grandmother owned a house on C—— Street and we rented one nearby. I guess I was under five then. I remember I used to go upstairs by helping myself with my hands. The reason I walked that way was that I fell down those stairs once. I don’t know whether it was because I couldn’t see the steps or what, but I fell and was crying because I bumped my head and my mother picked me up and took me to a candy store and bought me ice cream. I guess it was like the time I was coming from the street where my grandmother lived and hurt myself. I was running across the street and the sun was shining, bright, real hot. I had sneakers on and the heat was burning the soles of my feet, and I ran right into a small iron post. It was about five inches in diameter, not a big one, just one of those cheap posts, and I hit myself in the forehead or the eye and it swelled all the way up.

  My grandmother owned that house. I can see it. She lived on the third floor. I guess that’s where my grandfather died, three years before when I fell. I don’t remember ever seeing him. I—He was buried in his uniform. I can imagine I see him now. He’s lying in the coffin with a big sword over his chest. He was an officer in the Russian or German army before he came to America. A big sword across his chest. My grandfather was German; my grandmother was Polish. He had one of those big pegs on the top of his uniform hat. Somebody is holding me in their arms to look at him. I think it is one of my aunts, Vanya or Louise. My father is there and my mother with my sister; my mother with a little bit of a baby in her arms. My father and my uncle is there. My grandmother is in the other room praying. I see my father there too. I might have been two or three then. My eyes are wide open. MY EYES ARE OPEN!

  I didn’t cry or anything. I was just looking at him and at everybody in the room. My mother is crying. She’s much younger, no grey hair or anything. Her hair
is brown. My father looks the same; he hasn’t changed very much, only he’s lost his hair.

  My eyes were open then. My aunt was holding me. Whichever one it was, she was telling me to look at my grandfather, he was going away for a while. I know it happened in the room with the old-fashioned curtains on the wall and old-fashioned furniture, and there was a wedding picture of my grandmother and grandfather on the wall; and I know there were candles lit, they were shining bright, two big ones, one on each side. I must have been about two or a little more than that. My eyes were open and the room was kind of dark. Then somebody took me in their arms and into the other room. My grandmother was in there praying and crying. There was a lot of chairs around the table. I know I was old enough to walk because they put me down and I was walking. I wasn’t crying but I know my mother was. I can still hear my grandmother sobbing.…

  I saw my uncle in the coffin when he was dead but he looked different. He looked all white. My grandfather looked very much alive. He had that big sword, it was at least three feet long, right across his chest. My uncle didn’t have anything but a plain ordinary suit on: he didn’t look like my grandfather. My grandfather had his soldier’s hat on. He was older than my uncle when he died. I was around eighteen when my uncle passed away.

  You know, when I was about ten I didn’t realize that my eyes were squinting and closed. I always thought that they were open just like anyone else’s. I’d look in the mirror and I’d see them open, always open; and when somebody said something about them I never knew if they were lying or kidding me. I got into the habit of putting my hands over my eyes to shut the sun out. I don’t know if I did my usual amount of winking then or not. When I had my hand on my eyes I would be able to keep them open. When I went down to the river I used to do that so I could see the boats way out in the middle, the steam boats and tugs. They were pretty small and far away but I could see them.

  I remember we used to get fish, small fish: we had a lot of fun catching them. One time I was giving some to a kid on his porch and his mother and father were talking about me, my eyes. I was listening to them while I was talking to the kid. One of them was saying, “What a shame!” I guess they didn’t think I’d realize what they were talking about. I didn’t have much trouble about them when I was going to school. I remember the kindergarten class in the gymnasium room; how I built houses out of blocks. The sun would shine in through the kind of high windows and it would make me wink and blink. One kid asked me, “Why are you winking so much?”

  I started at W—— Avenue school when we lived at F—— Street. My mother held me by the hand, and Tony’s mother and Tony went along with us, the first day I went to school. Then, after a couple months, we moved to B—— Street and I finished kindergarten there. I only went in the afternoons. I’d get up late, around eight, and after my mother cleaned the house I’d go off to school. On B—— Street my eyes used to wink. I can’t remember if I squinted and blinked them before that. And I can’t remember anything about P——: all I can remember is coming from there. I was around two or three then. We had everything we owned on a truck and we came to live near my grandmother. There was a park near her house and my grandmother would take me and my sister for walks there. My sister was in a baby carriage. I just ran around but sometimes I’d take a nap in the carriage too. Sometimes both of us would ride in the carriage, me and my sister. This all happened when we lived on F—— Street because I remember going up and down that street. I must have been two then.

  L: ‘Harold, when did your grandfather die?’

  About twenty-one years ago.

  L: ‘Do you remember the year?’

  In nineteen-nineteen or nineteen-twenty, I think. I was about two.

  L: ‘How old were you when the family moved?’

  Between two and three.

  L: ‘Did your grandfather die after you moved?’

  When we moved there my grandfather was dead, because when we lived on F—— Street I didn’t see my grandfather around there. The only time I remember seeing him was when he was in his coffin, in the same house where my grandmother lived. I think the reason we moved from P—— was that my grandfather died and my mother wanted to be near her mother.

  L: ‘This grandfather was your mother’s father?’

  Yes.

  L: Now, Harold, we have reached a place where it is quite important that we do nothing for a short period. We have been striking a lot of resistance.…’

  The resistance, as illustrated in the dream and behavior of the patient, was so strong that it was considered best to terminate the analysis for a period.

  Yes; I can’t seem to remember anything.

  L: ‘Therefore I don’t want to see you again until a week from this coming Monday.’

  THE TWENTY-EIGHTH HOUR

  Well; I had only one dream that I remember. It happened a week ago last Friday, after the day you told me to hold off for a while. This was the dream: I had a secret, some kind of a secret. I guess it was an airplane motor. I had the secret about this motor and somebody tried to get it away from me. It was a man with a mustache, so of course I thought it was you. I remember I was locked in my cell and he was threatening me with everything if I didn’t come through with the secret. I remember the small windows in my cell and how I started to take a swing at the person. I started thinking about it afterwards and of course I placed it. The man had a mustache so of course it represented you, and the secret is the information you want, we want. All I remember is that I knew the secret but I wasn’t going to tell anybody. I guess I do know it but not so’s I can tell it.

  L: ‘Well, Harold, the significance of that dream is of course perfectly clear to you. It shows, doesn’t it, the tremendous amount of resistance that was there. I guess it was a good thing that we broke it off for a week.’

  Yes; yes.

  L: ‘After all, you do know a secret; and we are both striving to get at it.’

  I spent a lot of time studying this week. O, I wasn’t doing much but I really believe I studied more this week than maybe in two or three years in school on the outside. School was detestable. I see now all I missed. It’s going to take a long time catching up. I used to play hookey a lot and go swimming and things like that. I’d take every Friday afternoon off and go down to the Bay, even when the weather was cold. I’d go swimming sometimes even in February. We’d make a bonfire and stand around it and warm ourselves and then dive into the water. I don’t remember many of the kids that went with me to the seventh and eighth grade then. I don’t know what happened to them; I guess some are in jail. I played truant a lot when I was going to St. A——’s too. I think I remember one time when my uncle saw me and he knew I was playing hookey but he didn’t say anything to my mother or father: he just talked to me and told me to be careful and not to run around with boys who stayed away from school. I always liked him after that. I remember there was a bunch of kids who thought they were tough and we used to break into stores and lunch-wagons. I stole a lot of cigarettes and gave them to this uncle. Once in a while he’d ask me where I got them but I never told. I’d get drunk a lot with him but I don’t think he’s the one who taught me to drink. He always wanted to get drunk. He’d work for a few months, then he would quit and drink for a few months, and then he’d go back to work again. I don’t think he cared about anything. He had a wife but was separated from her. I saw her several times; she didn’t impress me.

  My other uncle, he had a broken forehead. It was all dented in from a train wreck. He really drinks a lot, but he’s a little different from my other uncle. My other uncle wasn’t interested in anything: the one with the broken forehead, he was interested in baseball and other sports. He would get me in a corner and tell me everything about baseball and football. I didn’t like to listen because I was never interested in that stuff. We always got along alright though.

  Once in a while I would work for my grandmother in her garden. I would help her fix flowers when I really wanted to go swimming. I didn�
��t like it but once in a while I couldn’t get out of doing it.…

  I had a lot of trouble with Perry this week. He seems to be changing. He didn’t speak to me, he didn’t eat with me, he didn’t say anything to me. Every time he’d see me he’d put his head down and act as if he didn’t want to speak.…

  My cousin Riggs used to have a lot of friends. I’d hang around with him and his friends and we’d play cards or pool together. We’d cut a lot of classes, not do anything except go to the show or play pool or just hang around. Riggs wasn’t a very clever fellow: he was cunning. I know I felt like fighting or hitting him many times. Maybe I was afraid to hit him. He’s heavier than I am but I don’t feel afraid of him.

  When I lived on S—— Street we used to have snowball fights. When I was about twelve there was a fellow who was sneaking around the car behind me and he hit me on the head with a stick. So I turned around and went after him and I hit him so hard he didn’t know what happened to him. His mother always gave me dirty looks when she saw me after that. I used to have a lot of fights when I was that age. They were mostly at nights because I hung out then with a gang of kids who prowled around only at night. We were a bunch of kids that wanted to break everything. We’d throw buckets of water from the railroad bridge on to the street where people were passing: we’d put rocks on the street-car tracks and on the railroad tracks and bullets, anything that would make a noise: we’d throw stones and handfuls of dirt at the trains going by and into open windows. The railroad detective got to know all of us by our first names. He was a grey-haired man of about fifty named Nelson. He couldn’t run very fast and we knew it. In the summertime we’d get a long string with a hook on it and when the fellows that worked on the bread-wagons or the big bakery near where we lived would put their lunch-boxes in a cool place, we’d pull up these guys’ lunches through a grating and tie them so that they’d have to get a ladder to reach them. Sometimes we’d get rolls of film, light them then extinguish the flames and throw them around the classrooms. They wouldn’t burn anything but they made one godawful stink. I remember one time when we lived on B—— Street and I was around eight I tried to steal some ice from an ice-truck that was going by and the driver saw me and stopped the truck and grabbed me. I was so scared I leaked in my pants. I told him I just wanted a piece of ice. He figured I was trying to steal his pick. That’s the only time I ever did anything like that and was caught. I mean that’s the only time I ever leaked when I was caught doing something.