Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Lois M. Randall: (Largely) In Her Own Words


Lois M. Randall to Loren D. Estleman, 16 June 1997.

            I’m a native Californian, born a long time ago. I grew up during the Great Depression and had no hope of college. However, after high school, thanks to the availability of an excellent local junior college, I was able to attend and graduate from it in 1942 and worked at the San Bernardino Army Air Base all during World War II. I was able to finish college (UC Berkeley, English major) after what my generation still refers to as The War, and met my husband at Berkeley. That’s the in-a-nutshell version of my biography.

            A few important family biographical particulars: my father was a Missouri farm boy whose schooling ended at about the fourth grade, after his father died from a fall in an icehouse where he had been working in 1904 (obviously, with no pension or other social benefits), and my grandmother [did] her best to support him. They moved to Southern California when my father was fifteen, and seven years later he and my mother (daughter of a small-town grocer) were married after her high school graduation. I was born four years later.

            My father worked as a cement contractor, and he and my mother bought a very small house in 1925, four years before the 1929 stock market crash. Obviously, my parents had no stock or bonds, but the building trades were about the first to be affected by the Crash. The years up to 1933 were nightmarish for my parents: no work, no money, nothing to fall back on. My mother was an excellent seamstress and cold bring in a little money, but not very much. I don’t know how old I was when my dad had to apply for financial assistance, but I do remember the day he came home and told my mother he had had to sign something called a “Pauper’s Oath” to get help. I think he was then about thirty-five, an age when he had expected to be able to pay off the mortgage and be a responsible citizen. Signing the oath may not seem like much now, and he did it; but it was something he never forgot.

            Before the 1932 presidential election, California had some sort of inadequate work program that my father signed up for.

Lois M. Randall to Don Sharp, 5 May 1983

            I’m a native Californian who has been driving since 1940 and copy editing since 1965. Your mentioning the tree-and-pulley method of engine repair reminded me that my cousin tore down, as I recall it, a bright red Essex under an ash tree in our back yard during the mid-thirties and then put it back together in better condition than it had been when he bought it. I’m afraid I got more than a little grease on my hands (and clothes) while he was working on it. ….

            As the native California daughter of a native California mother (my mother taught herself to drive in my parents’ Model T in the early twenties), I can say that many women have driven cars alone as long as I can remember.

Lois M. Randall, Job Application to Library Journal, 31 March 1960.

            I am a native Californian, born in 1921 …. I Majored in English at the University of California at Berkeley and was graduated with the class of 1948. My husband in is college English teaching, which is something of a gypsy profession; and we were married while he was in graduate school. Consequently, as we moved from graduate school to various teaching positions, I gathered experience in a variety of occupations which might fit me for the position that you have open.

            While we were at the University of Minnesota I worked as an editorial assistant in the College of Education, editing and summarizing reports on school administration and construction written by the director of the Bureau of Field Studies and Surveys and his staff. Moving on to Northwestern University, I was an assistant to the documents librarian in the university library. Since we have been at Wellesley I copy edited four children’s books on a freelance basis under the guidance of Mrs. Mary Rackliffe, head copy editor at Little, Brown and Company; since last June I have been employed by the Wellesley Free Library.

Lois M. Randall to Arnold Tovell, 14 May 1965

            When my husband took his first full-time position (at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois), I worked in the university library, and my editorial work—officially—came to a halt. However, it was then that my husband was finishing up his dissertation, and I gained a lot more unofficial editorial experience, since I typed all but the final copy of the dissertation. Later, when it became a book (The Landscape and the Looking Glass, published by Houghton Mifflin in 1960), I was again unofficially employed as a proofreader.

            By that time, we have moved to Massachusetts, where he has taught American literature (at Boston College) since 1960. For two years, 1960-62, I worked as editorial assistant and secretary to Ruth Hill Viguers, editor of The Horn Book Magaine, leaving only because we were going to live for a year in Belgium, where John was Fulbright lecturer in American literature for 1962-63. My work on The Horn Book included both copy editing and proofreading, as well as indexing the magazine.

            Since our return from Europe in the fall of 1963, I have been employed as a more-or-less full-time housewife, a part-time secretary, and a free-lance manuscript reader of children’s books. I have discovered that I would prefer to be a full-time copy editor and hire a cleaning woman. It would be nice to be paid $95 a week.

Sarah Flynn, 18 July 1986

            As some of you may know, today is Lois Randall’s last day with Houghton Mifflin. She has chosen to retire on her sixty-fifth birthday. Lois has been with us for eight years. Among the authors she worked with are Paul Brooks, Pat Conroy, Loren Estleman, A. G. Guthrie, Jr., Morgan Llywelyn, Edwin Newman, and Robert Taylor; she expects to take on certain projects on a free-lance basis in the future. Before joining HMCo, Lois was production editor at Beacon Press, and she started in publishing at The Horn Book.

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