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Gergely, Pál

Gergely Pál: Virágzó fák (30x40 cm, vízf.) 


Virágzó fák

Davis, Robert Murray

R O B E RT M U R R A Y DAV IS 
M UL T I P LE VOICES IN THE DEATH OF BERNADETTE 
LEFTHAND 
Even without Tony Hillerman's praise above the title of the 
Bantam edition of Ron Querry's The Death of Bernadette Lefthand 
(New York: Bantam, 1995; first published 1993), comparisons with 
Hillerman's mystery novels are inevitable. Both construct plots about 
murderers and victims; both draw upon the local color of the Four 
Corners area of New Mexico and Arizona; both deal with Indian1 
characters and draw upon Navajo customs and beliefs; both implicitly 
acknowledge that they not part of the culture they describe. 
The similarities may account for Antonya Nelson's dissatisfaction 
with Querry's book in her New York Times review. She complained 
that the two first person narrators "cannot sustain suspense in the 
mystery because they do not have sufficient information to present to 
the reader. Much of what they report is either digressive or ancillary." 
When the element of witchcraft appears, however, the reader "feels 
the growing threat to Bernadette's life" and "The book begins to feel 
like a mystery...." This leads Nelson to predict that Querry will "find 
the perfect balance between the evocative Southwest and the equally 
evocative mystery genre" (Nelson 31). 
Her description of the book, if not her judgment, is more or less 
supportable. Bernadette Lefthand has been killed—not, as her friends, 
family, and even the ostensible murderer think, by Anderson George, 
her handsome, alcoholic Navajo husband but by Emmett Take Horse, 
physically and spiritually deformed, who turns first to witchcraft, then 
1 I use "Indian" in preference to "Native American," following the usage of my First 
American colleagues. 
57 
to encouraging Anderson's drinking, and finally to physical violence 
out of jealousy and desire for Bernadette. He plants the evidence that 
leads to Anderson's arrest and, when confronted with photographic 
evidence of the crime he supposedly committed while drunk, his 
suicide. 
And Nelson's logic is formally impeccable: Bernadette Lefthand 
falls in the mystery genre; it doesn't have the proper elements of the 
mystery genre; therefore it is not quite successful. The reasoning is not 
fallacious; the problem lies in the major premise. Querry has used 
elements of the mystery novel, but he has used far more ambitious 
formal means in order to create a complex picture of life in the 
modern Southwest. 
The difference between Querry and Hillerman is obvious if one 
looks past the superficial similarities. Despite the exotic setting, 
Hillerman's books are classic examples of the mystery genre, 
detective novels in every sense of the word. He uses the standard 
limited third person point of view, with the investigator as focus of 
narration and major center of interest. And his books are constructed 
in the traditional way: disruption of social balance by a crime; search 
for a solution (dependent on evidence about motive, method, and 
opportunity); discovery of the guilty party; and restoration, however 
tentative and uneasy, of order in the society and in the mind of the 
detective, who has to understand the motive as well as the method and 
opportunity. Hillerman's Navajo detectives, educated in white 
universities, are useful not just to solve crimes but to present to the 
reader a world-view which they both share and analyze and a setting 
to whose beauty they are acutely sensitive. 
Bernadette Lefthand turns the traditional mystery form inside out. 
It has no detective, no investigation, no discovery, except by the 
reader, and. most important, no restoration of order, social or 
psychological. The reader is given motive and opportunity, but the 
method (actually two quite different methods), is not finally decidable. 
Unlike Hillerman, Querry employs not one consciousness but five 
different narrative voices which deny coherence to the plot and 
harmony to the world created in the novel. 
The narrative voices interweave with, supplement, and sometimes 
contradict each other, but in general terms they range from wholly 
58 
uninvolved and objective, even scientific, to very limited and 
subjective. The first kind of voice—quotations from anthropologists 
about Navajo beliefs at the beginning and end of the novel and 
between sections—is not usually thought of as part of the narrative at 
all. In most novels, these would be called epigraphs, casually noted for 
their relevance and then safely ignored, but Querry clearly regards 
them as crucial to his purpose. In Bernadette Lefthand the epigraphs 
offer a more detached and analytical perspective than the other 
narrative voices. In the novel as a whole, Querry neither asserts nor 
denies the efficacy of witchcraft, but the epigraphs give scientific and 
analytic evidence of the widespread credence placed in it by Navajos. 
They also help to establish the methods by which Emmett Take Horse 
believes he is operating. The last quotation suggests but does not 
enforce belief in the means of retribution for his crime: "a witch who 
escapes human retribution will eventually be struck down by 
lightning" (215). 
In what would be considered normal narrative space, Querry 
creates a voice in italicized passages." The copywriter for Bantam 
calls this "an unnamed stranger." In fact, the voice is that of an 
impersonal narrator who employs limited omniscience to present the 
traditional Navajo cosmological view of the action. Most of the 
italicized material describes Emmett practicing witchcraft, but Querry 
also uses it to describe the Devil Chasing Ceremony with which 
Anderson's grandfather attempts to cure him, Anderson's brother 
Tom's horror at the sight of a skinwalker which causes his fatal crash, 
and Bernadette's ebbing consciousness and inert body. Most of these 
passages present specific behavior to reinforce and be reinforced by 
anthropological theory. To take a relatively minor example, in one 
italicized scene we learn that Emmett's father, also a witch was struck 
by lightning, and in his last appearance Emmett is driving into a rare 
thunderstorm, exulting in his success. 
On two occasions, Querry uses a scenic mode of narration, once to 
describe Anderson and his brother Tom driving across the desert, once 
to present the police investigation of Tom's death in what seems to be 
a commonplace collision with a cow. These passages give a secular 
2 Geary Hobson has noted that Frank Waters used this device in The Man Wh o 
Killed the Deer. 
59 
view of the causes of Tom's death and Anderson's decline. The first 
helps to establish the relationship between the brothers: Tom is steady 
and sober, Anderson's good angel to Emmett 's bad; Anderson has a 
tendency to drink and show off. It also foreshadows Tom's death: 
Anderson tells Tom to stay alert for "any of those stray livestocks that 
might be xing each other out in the middle of this road," and Tom 
responds that "I expect you to keep me awake" (59). Just before the 
fatal crash, described in italics, Anderson is asleep. But as far as the 
white state trooper is concerned, in the ensuing scene in roman type, 
"it's just another one of your typical reservation one-vehicle 
accidents" (162), almost as common as deaths from alcoholism and 
suicide. 
These objective voices are important to an understanding of what 
happens and why and how it does so, but the two first-person narrators 
dominate the novel. Their purpose is not, as Nelson thinks, to "sustain 
suspense in the mystery." As far as Grade Lefthand, Bernadette's 
sister, and Starr Stubbs, Bernadette's white employer and friend, can 
tell, there is no mystery: she was murdered in a drunken rage by her 
husband, Anderson George, who then commits suicide. Nor can there 
be any suspense: Bernadette is already dead when the novel begins. 
Both accounts are retrospective. If Gracie and Starr were characters in 
a mystery novel, they would be witnesses, but Querry establishes them 
not as witnesses to but as survivors of a crime. In their struggle to 
understand what has happened, Gracie and Starr remember, speculate, 
and mourn. These narratives are central, not ancillary, to their tellers' 
function: to provide information about the character, setting, and 
situation from the contrasting viewpoints of a sixteen-year-old Taos-
Apache girl and a sophisticated, somewhat jaded New York model 
transplanted after marriage to a country and western singer to Dulce, 
New Mexico. 
Starr is so loosely connected with the plot that some readers think 
her character unnecessary or over-developed. Querry makes some 
attempt to integrate her into the story line: Gracie thinks for a time 
that she is somehow associated with the beginning of the troubles, and 
Starr does feel guilty about inviting Anderson in for a drink when he 
picks up Bernadette from work. But nothing comes of these 
suggestions, and Starr's real purpose in the novel is to represent a 
60 
white outsider's attitude towards Indian culture. Querry gives her 
individualizing traits (pills, drink, lovers, a crazy husband), partly in 
order to show that the white world is far from ideal, partly to make her 
seem more than a mere convenience. 
But she is clearly useful. Bored and lonely in Dulce, which she 
finds stark and ugly, she collects Southwestern art, jewelry, and 
clothing. Curious about Indian life and culture, she has to gather 
information from reading because "Lord knows you couldn't get them 
to tell you anything about themselves" (31). She employs Bernadette 
as a maid, is drawn to her beauty of body and spirit, thinks of her as 
the only friend she has in Dulce, and regrets, far more than Bernadette 
or any of the Indians, the poverty in which she lives. Recognizing 
Bernadette's sadness as her husband's health and spirits decline, she 
offers to pay to send him to a "real doctor" because she has no faith in 
or understanding of Navajo healing ceremonies and regards belief in 
witches as mere superstition. In her last monologue, however, Starr is 
willing to admit that her inability to accept these ideas is "more a 
result of my own culture than of any unwillingness on my part to be 
open-minded" (183). Finally, speaking from feelings rather than 
superior while knowledge, she is both accurate and sympathetic: 
"Bernadette Lefthand is dead, and that something unspeakably evil 
and ugly happened to her" (183, 184). The major representative of the 
white world's impingement on the Indians, she is at the end far more 
sympathetic than the trooper who refers to Indians frozen from 
exposure as "popsicles" and thinks that, in contrast to "Your Mexicans 
and coloreds...Indians would rather kill themselves" (162) or than the 
white bigots from Lubbock in search of "some local Indian color" (39) 
who are lured into biting on a very old joke about how Indians get 
their names. 
Starr is literally alienated from her surroundings, but Gracie 
Lefthand, whose account (except for the epigraphs) begins and ends 
the book, is so much at home that she hardly seems to judge. Perhaps 
not all of American literature comes, as Hemingway asserted, from 
Adventures of Hucklebeny Finn, but Gracie certainly does. Like 
Huck, Gracie has little education, narrow experience, and an inherent 
shrewdness; like him, she does not think of herself as a victim; unlike 
him, she is not naive, nor does she admire or identify with the 
61 
dominant culture. And though she is aware of inter-tribal tensions and 
feelings of superiority, she does not share them. 
Grade is not exactly a traditional Indian. She watches game shows 
on a battered black-and-white television set, enjoys mass-produced 
junk food as much as she does a Hopi feast, and has only cursory 
knowledge of traditional Indian religion and none of the supposedly 
Indian identification with nature. She does note that "plastic bags have 
ruined the looks of the country" around Many Farms, but she also 
thinks the store from which they came "really nice" (82). White 
tourists endure heat and discomfort to enter Canyon de Chelly so they 
can "write their names everywhere and take souvenirs home with 
them even if they know they aren't supposed to" (83). For her, it is 
merely the place where Tom's and Anderson's grandparents live. 
She does know that she is an Indian, and she is matter-of-fact about 
rather than resigned to her lot. She points out that except for the local 
white people, "most everybody who lives around here is an Indian and 
real poor. One just naturally goes with the other, I guess" (46). She 
knows that whites, including Starr, look down on and discriminate 
against Indians, but, aware of the foolishness of white "Wannabees" 
and even less knowledgeable tourists, she does not accept the premise 
that they are superior. Nor does she let white attitudes spoil her 
pleasure at staying in a Gallup motel and eating at a Furr's Cafeteria, 
the high points of her sixteen years' experience. 
Grade is aware of and resigned to personal as well as social limits. 
Plainer than her accomplished sister, she accepts her subordinate role, 
proud of Bernadette's beauty and her dancing and pleased with her 
romance with Anderson, the handsomest male in the region even 
though she does not entirely reject her Taos father's stereotyping of 
his Navajo tribe. She accepts the responsibility of caring for her 
sister's orphaned son (the idea of marriage and motherhood as natural 
disasters provides a subtext of her narrative) at the expense of her own 
education and prospects and even her home, planning at the end of the 
novel to move to California so that the boy will not grow up 
surrounded by people who know his parents' fate. 
Gracie knows the circumstances of the characters' lives, but she 
does not have all the facts. She has heard that Emmett Take Horse is 
suspected of being a witch and believes in witches, though she doesn't 
62 
know much about them, and that the Navajo who caused his terrible 
injury in a riding accident wasted away and died, and she knows that 
her sister befriended Emmett and then took up with Anderson. But she 
cannot know the depth of Emmett 's obsession with Bernadette or the 
means he employs. 
Gra de ' s usefulness in providing the novel with a structural thread 
is as important as the picture she gives of Indian life and character 
from the inside. However, she is only intermittently conscious of 
telling a story, and in her opening lines almost effaces herself: 
I 'm just barely sixteen years old, but sometimes I feel a whole lot 
older than that. 
You know how sometimes a person can get to feelin' like their 
life's already just about over with? Or worse yet, like they ain't even 
here anymore? 
Well, that's how I feel a lot of the time...at least ever since 
Bernadette died. (2) 
Then, after telling how she and her father were notified of 
Bernadette's death, she presents fragmentary memories about her 
sister's beauty and prowess as a dancer and Anderson's triumph at the 
Taos powwow, the highest point of his beauty and power. Later— 
perhaps to indicate that the shock has worn off-—Querry has her 
describe settings, customs, and characters, seemingly by association 
but in fact providing expository material essential for understanding 
what is to follow. 
The middle of the novel, in which Grade describes a trip to the 
Navajo and Hopi country with Bernadette and the George brothers, is 
more coherent. On the surface, the trip is the high point of Gr ad e ' s 
life, her farthest excursion into the world outside Dulce. In fact, 
intercut with the italicized passages introduced at this point, the trip 
marks the beginning of Anderson's decline, either because of 
Emmett 's witchcraft or because of the alcohol which Emmett gives 
him. 
After the trip and Tom's death. Grade chronicles Anderson's 
decline and her sister's growing sadness and continued silence about 
her problems. The one moment of relief comes in Gr ade ' s account of 
Bernadette's last powwow, where her beauty of body and spirit are 
emphasized most strongly. This sequence is clearly intended to echo 
63 
the one in which Anderson triumphs; Bernadette recalls it and vainly 
hopes, by making Anderson remember, to get him to stop drinking. 
In the brief final episode, Gracie tells of the circumstances of 
Anderson's suicide and her plans to move to California before 
delivering her valedictory lines, an echo of the novel's opening: 
I feel like my whole life is just about over with. Like it's already 
gone past me. 
And I 'm just barely sixteen. (214) 
Grade ' s beginning and closing speeches, enclosing as they do the 
two powwows featuring the doomed lovers, indicate that she not only 
establishes a framework but, like Charlie Marlow in Heart of 
Darkness and any number of Jamesian observers, occupies a central 
place within it. She is the most fully developed character, hers the 
major narrative voice, hers the clearest awareness of her 
circumstances and the means by which she must confront them. 
However, G rade ' s is not the only voice, nor hers the only tragedy. 
Tom, Anderson, Bernadette, and presumably Emmett have suffered 
the consequences of what the next-to-last epigraph, placed just before 
the catastrophe, calls the "imbalance" created "by indulging in 
excesses, having improper contact with dangerous powers," behavior 
that results in "conflict, disharmony, disorder, evil, sickness of the 
body and mind, ugliness, misfortune and/or disaster..." (165). Starr 
has suffered the loss of her friend and gained a limited awareness, but 
her knowledge will apparently not cause her to change her life for the 
better. The other narrative voices and the audience, presumably white, 
may contemplate but cannot alter or be directly touched by tragic 
events that occur not because of the white world's incursion or even 
Navajo witchcraft but of human flaws and passions that are more 
Indian in texture than in essence. 
I am indebted to the students in my critical reading and writing course who read 
and discussed the book with me and to Professors Geary Hobson, Alan Velie, and 
Jeanette Harris, who read an early draft of this essay. 
64 
WORKS CITED 
Nelson, Antonya. New York Times Book Review, 28 November 1993, 
P- 31. 
Querry, Ron. The Death of Bernadette Lefthand. New York: Bantam, 
1995. 
65 



Multiple Voices in The Death of Bernadette Lefthand

Friedrichné Kovács, Irén

Szecskó, Károly

Kolacskovszky Lajos élete és munkássága. I.

Tarnóc, András

A N D RÁ S T A R N Ó C 
T H E R E T U R N OF T H E HOLY C R O W N 
(Giant Tibor: A Szent Korona amerikai kalandja 1945-1978. 
Debrecen: Kossuth Egyetemi Kiadó, 1997. 180, [1] pp.) 
January 6, 1978 marks a special day in Hungarian history and in 
the course of Hungarian-American relations as well. After an almost 
33 year absence the Hungarian Crown and the attendant crown jewels 
were officially returned by the government of the United States. Tibor 
Giant's excellent work, titled A Szent Korona amerikai kalandja 
1945-1978 was inspired by the twentieth anniversary of that 
momentous event. 
Being the principal icon of the nation, the Holy Crown is 
(.inseparable from the upheavals of Hungarian history, and its very 
removal from Hungary deserves a further look. As the author asserts, 
the possibility of taking the Crown beyond Hungary's borders was 
pondered after the defeat of the 1848 Revolution and War of 
independence and eventually the removal was realized in 1945. 
Whereas, in both cases the intended destination was the United States, 
the historical circumstances differed. Kossuth and Szemere fleeing 
from Hungary were motivated by an honest appreciation and 
reverence toward the role and function of Hungary's national relic and 
dared not to break one of the stipulations of the 1715 oath of the 
Crown Guard, forbidding the transfer of the Crown beyond Hungary's 
borders. In 1945 the fascist Szálasi government viewed the Crown as a 
legitimizing device for its unlawful dictatorial regime. It is no 
coincidence that the Crown was taken abroad in the year marking the 
collapse of fascism and at the same time indicating the termination of 
one of the darkest periods in Hungarian history. Whereas Kossuth was 
driven by a sincere respect and loyalty to Hungary's national relic, the 
135 
leader of the Hungarian fascist government was compelled by a 
twisted megalomaniac desire for this national symbol of power. 
Giant offers a thorough and highly entertaining overview of the 
milestones of the Holy Crown's adventure. The brief stations of the 
Holy Crown's ordeal, culminating in its departure from Hungary on 
December 27, 1945, the Mattsee interlude and the eventual handing 
over to the American forces, however do not only symbolize a 
surrender, but a hope in a better future. The Holy Crown taken to the 
United States in 1953 appeared to have served a dual purpose. For 
Hungary it functioned as a symbol of historic continuity and of 
national identity, and the U.S. considered it as a collateral, or a 
guarantee for a democratic future in the region. The crown's presence 
in America even at the height of the Cold War held the promise of 
normalization of the relations between the two countries. 
The Holy Crown as a metonymy can either represent the Hungarian 
state and being a central issue to be resolved between Hungary and the 
United States, functioned as a barometer measuring the intensity and 
quality of Hungarian-American relations between 1945-1978. Giant 
views the adventure of the Holy Crown not as an isolated event, but as 
a process, or a continuum. The work in fact progresses on two levels, 
describing the Hungarian government's efforts at achieving the return 
of the national relic and discussing the accompanying political 
developments in America. 
The Holy Crown, however, as Giant argues is not a strictly 
interpreted issue between Hungary and the U.S., but a cornerstone of 
the relationship between two world orders. Hungarian-American 
relations started as an object-centered continuum reified in the 1902 
unveiling of the Kossuth statue in Cleveland and the presentation of 
Washington's statue in 1906 in Budapest. The return of the Holy 
Crown in 1978 appears to be the culmination of this process taking 
place between the two nations divided by the contemporary political 
climate and united by the past. The fact that the United States 
government held the Crown for safe keeping, offered a chance for a 
new beginning, provided a hope for cooperation and a stable 
relationship even in the darkest days of the Mindszenty trial and the 
Vogeler affair. In fact, the Crown buried literally in the vault of Fort 
Knox, and hidden figuratively in the subconscious of the American 
people, represented a certain international obligation or unfinished 
business to be attended to. 
136 
As Giant points out, the idea of returning the Holy Crown and the 
crown jewels emerged several times before 1945 and even the 
American government's position was not a unanimous one owing to 
the somewhat murky conditions of its acquisition qualifying it either 
as a war booty, or a property of a foreign nation to be held in the U.S. 
for temporary safe keeping. While the Hungarian government made 
repeated efforts to reacquire this national relic, American policy 
makers did not deem the political conditions in Hungary conducive to 
the return. The giving back of the Crown jewels was treated as a 
condition for the normalization of the relations between the two 
countries. 
Giant correctly evaluates the dual role of the Crown carrying 
different meanings for Hungarians in America and for those who 
remained in the Old Country. Largely conditioned by living in 
Hungary between 1920-1945, the post-World War II immigrant 
generation embraced the Doctrine of the Holy Crown, viewing the 
national relic as a symbol of the Hungarian community incorporating 
all Hungarian people and Hungarian territories. Those remaining in 
Hungary after 1956 and also the Hungarian government primarily 
viewed the Holy Crown as a historical relic. 
Modifications of the international political environment and the 
attendant easing of the tensions of the Cold War laid the foundations 
of the American effort aimed at the return of the crown jewels. The 
Carter administration's decision to return the Holy Crown and the 
attendant crown jewels to Hungary can be treated as an example of the 
exercise of presidential power. Richard E. Neustadt envisions three 
primary factors of presidential power: formal powers conferred by the 
Constitution, professional reputation, that is the President's standing 
in the eyes of the Washington establishment and finally the public 
perception of the chief executive's authority (164). According to 
Neustadt, it is the power to persuade, that is convincing the legislators 
or other members of the political environment, that the action to be 
taken by the president is beneficial for them and for the nation as well 
is the most influential component of the executive decision making 
apparatus (35). 
Elaborating and implementing its plan for the return of the Holy 
Crown, the Carter administration had to cope with a formidable 
challenge concerning the components of Neustadt's model. The 
President's constitutional authority to decide in the issue was 
137 
questioned by Kansas Senator Bob Dole 's petition seeking the transfer 
of the decision making power to the Senate on the contention that the 
actual return of the Holy Crown, should be dealt with by a treaty 
subject to the "advice and consent"of the upper house of Congress. 
Another petition by Nebraska Senator Carl T. Curtis asserted that the 
Holy Crown as a booty extracted from a vanquished foe was the 
property of the United States giving jurisdiction over its disposal to 
the Senate. The United States Supreme Court rejected both claims 
thereby affirming Carter's formal powers. Congressional opponents 
and proponents represented the Washington audience of the Carter 
decision. The opponents included Ohio representatives Louis Stokes 
and Mary Rose Oakar, and Senator Bob Dole from Kansas. Indeed, 
the Oakar letter vigorously objecting to the return decision was, 
signed by 40 representatives. Also, as Giant reports, the protesters 
included the Mayors of Boston, Honolulu, Pittsburgh and Cleveland 
and the governors of Ohio, Michigan, New Jersey, and Missouri. 
Furthermore, the Carter administration had to face impassioned 
protests and demonstrations organized by Hungarian-American groups 
as well. 
Carter largely by gaining the support of such outstanding figures of 
the Hungarian-American community as Ferenc Nagy and Béla Király, 
however, was able to reach his goal thereby preserving his 
professional reputation. While almost simultaneous negotiations 
facilitating the return of the Panama Canal to the Republic of Panama 
resulted in several concessions on the part of the administration, in 
this case, the presidential initiative for the returning of the crown 
sailed through unscathed. The success of Carter's effort was also 
assisted by the acquisition of the support of such key figures as 
Senator Joseph Biden, New York Representative Ted Weiss, than the 
only Hungarian-born member of Congress, and of Pope Paul VI. 
According to the author, both sides viewed the decision as a 
success. Americans cherished the fact that Hungary became one of the 
most democratic countries in the Eastern Block displaying a partial 
commitment to democracy and promoting religious freedom and 
tolerance. The return of the crown jewels was presented as a device to 
encourage the reinforcement of Hungarian national consciousness and 
the expansion of the freedom of religion. Carter describing Hungary 
as a nation open and receptive to values Americans hold dear was able 
138 
to use Neustadt's power to persuade, promoting the decision as a 
benefit to the American people. 
The return of the crown jewels paving the way for the acquisition 
of the Most Favored Nation status in trade relations was one of the 
greatest successes of the post-1945 Hungarian diplomacy. The 
diplomatic maneuvermgs connoted a certain degree of freedom from 
Soviet control and signaled an effort at achieving a quasi-autonomous 
status within the Eastern Block. 
Giant's work painstakingly retracing the details of the removal and 
return of the Holy Crown is a welcome addition enriching both the 
scholarship on Hungarian history and the domestic achievements in 
American Studies. It is noteworthy that the author chose an event from 
the recent past on which the figurative dust has not yet settled, and 
whose participants are in most cases alive. This apparent lack of 
historical perspective, however, does not present an insurmountable 
obstacle for the author, as he is able to present the findings of his 
thorough and careful research in a remarkably objective manner. 
However, Tibor Giant's book is valuable for another reason. As it is 
often mentioned the average citizen is far removed from the workings 
of history, and he or she can gain an insight into the background of 
milestone events only after the respective period is viewed as one 
belonging to the distant past and its actors disappeared through the 
trapdoor of history. The present work, however, focusing on a 
relatively recent event breaks this imposed code of silence taking the 
reader on an unforgettable journey in the labyrinth of contemporary 
foreign policy decision making. 
WORKS CITED 
Neustadt, Richard, E. Presidential Power. New York: John Wiley and 
Sons, 1980. 
139 


The Return of the Holy Crown [könyvismertetés]

Köves, József

Módszerek variálásának lehetőségei egy földrajzórán

Virágos, Zsolt, K.

The American Bland of the Myth of Apocalypse

Chalberg, John, C.

JOHN C. CHALBERG
LEHEL VADON: UPTON SINCLAIR IN HUNGARY 
Eger, Hungary: College Press, 1993. 125 pp.
Can it be said that writers are immortal? Upton Sinclair thought so.
But has the muckraking novelist and crusading socialist actually
attained such status himself? Lehel Vadon has helped to answer that
question affirmatively—at least according to one of Sinclair's standards.
It was long the contention of the author of The Jungle and countless
other books that one of the surest signs of an author's immortality was
his popularity outside his native land. And Professor Vadon has amply
demonstrated that Sinclair has long had a more than ample audience in
a country far removed from the grimy Baltimore and gritty New York
of his youth and young manhood—and even farther removed from his
adopted and much beloved southern California.
Just as The Jungle established a twenty-eight year old Upton
Sinclair as a major writer in the United States, so the introduction of the
novel to European audiences was the initial reason that Sinclair had a 
significant following in pre-World War I Hungary. More specifically,
Sinclair's fictional expose of exploitation in the American meatpacking
industry both made him a hero of sorts among Hungarian social
democrats and led the Hungarian government to "tighten up on" its
own meat industry.
But at the same time Sinclair was not highly regarded in
Hungarian literary and intellectual circles. In Vadon's words, the
"writer's painstakingly accurate documentary style" virtually assured
167
that Hungarian literary journals would have "little appreciation" for
Upton Sinclair.
Such journals in both Hungary and the United States were correct
to dismiss much of Sinclair's early work as second-rate at best and utter
trash at worst. But The Jungle was another matter entirely. Here was a 
gripping story that also happened to be a piece of propaganda (as
opposed to too much of Sinclair's work which was propaganda first, 
last, and always). Therefore, it is not surprising that within a year of its
appearance in American bookstores this novel was translated into
Hungarian and published in Hungary.
Still, the motivations of the original Hungarian translator, Károlyné
Baross, were neither overtly literary nor directly concerned with
industrial exploitation. Instead, she hoped that the availability of The 
Jungle in Hungary would make Hungarians think at least twice before
deciding to immigrate to a country which featured diseased food and
poisonous working conditions.
But Professor Vadon is quick to point out that The Jungle was read
and appreciated by "literate working class readers," who regarded
Sinclair as "their own writer," and who did not hesitate to declare him
the "socialist writer" that he remained.
And no doubt Sinclair would have been pleased, proud as he was
of his dual commitment to a craft (writing) and a cause (socialism).
Which was primary for Upton Sinclair? That is impossible to say,
because his two careers were so thoroughly intertwined. What can be 
said is that the young Sinclair was first a writer. And far from being a 
writer of socialist novels or socialist tracts he was a writer of jokes and
pulp fiction. In sum, he wrote for that most capitalistic of reasons: to
earn a living.
Money was not a plentiful commodity in a household composed of
an impoverished mother and her precocious son, Sinclair's alcoholic
father having abandoned his small family for a life of drinking and
dissipation. Young Upton did have a possible escape: He could have
become a permanent foster son to his mother's wealthy sister. But
loyalty to his mother led him to reject any such overture. Instead, he
168
set to work as a writer with a singlemindedness that was only matched
by his subsequent devotion to socialism.
Sinclair did permit himself a few diversions along the way to
immortality. In his early twenties he discovered that gambling was his
"vice." Throughout his life tennis provided him an occasional respite
from work. And between twenty-two and his octogenarian years he did
manage to acquire three wives, a son, and a comfortable income.
Nonetheless, Upton Sinclair was never the stereotypical poor boy
who wanted to become rich. In the first place, time spent with his
affluent cousins taught him that life for the rich was not necessarily
trouble free. Secondly, he discovered socialism sometime in his mid-
twenties. Improbable as it seems, Sinclair claimed that he had had no
awareness of socialism—and only a vague understanding of populism—
until the early years of the administration of Theodore Roosevelt.
Roosevelt, who adamantly opposed socialism, had little reason to
fear Sinclair's brand of it. Never did Upton Sinclair so much as flirt with
the idea that socialism was to be achieved at the point of a gun. In fact,
he never wavered from his belief that the ballot box was the only way
to bring socialism to any country. Finally, his socialist utopia was
essentially a middle class utopia where intelligent people, gifted people,
rational people set the tone for a society of order, virtue, and equality.
As a socialist, Sinclair's central tenet was that economic inequality was
at the root of every evil that beset society. His guiding assumption was
that the elimination of that brand of inequality would automatically
usher in a society without conflict.
But in the meantime there was plenty of conflict in Sinclair's
private life, not to mention plenty of social conflict available for him to
excoriate in book after book. A professionally driven Upton Sinclair
generally tried to avoid personal conflict by essentially ignoring his first 
wife and only son. He was also so inadequate at playing the role of
provider that his father-in-law removed his daughter and grandson from
the writer's home. When the family was reunited it was in a leaky cabin
near Princeton, New Jersey, a cabin from which the nominal head of
the household escaped to write hour after solitary hour in a nearby tent
169
which just happened to be dry. The result of those efforts was a Civil
War novel which he called Manassas. This book was not a financial 
success, but it did lead directly to the writing and serializing of The 
Jungle through the popular socialist periodical, 'The Appeal of Reason."
Despite tireless efforts and a genius for self-promotion (Like the
American impresario, P. T. Barnum, Upton Sinclair held to the axiom
that any publicity was good publicity.), Sinclair did not produce a novel
to match The Jungle for a number of years, if ever. Jimmie Higgins, 
published in 1919, perhaps came close. Vadon calls it one of the "best
known and most important works of anti-war socialist literature."
Written in part to atone for his curious support for the American
decision to enter World War I, Sinclair's novel also endorsed the
Bolshevik Revolution. It was, Vadon, concludes, the work in which
Sinclair "came closest to the philosophy of marxism." In all, the novel
received two Hungarian translations and was made into a film in the
Soviet Union.
But Sinclair remained a missionary socialist, not a doctrinaire
marxist. That point of view was clearly expressed in many of his post-
1920 books. And because of that point of view his continued popularity
in Hungary was due in no small measure to the efforts of socialist
magazines and newspapers.
According to Lehel Vadon, between 1920 and 1945 Upton Sinclair
was "one of the most widely read socialist writers in Hungary." But he
was also a writer whose works were the subject of great debate within
Hungary. To some Hungarian critics, his "individualistic socialist
philosophy" was inadequately proletarian. To more "bourgeois critics"
he was a writer with a pedestrian prose style and an inability to create
compelling fictional characters.
Despite these deficiencies, Sinclair did not lack for Hungarian
readers and commentaries. Professor Vadon details a series of Sinclair
productions that resonated with Hungarians. In fact, it was the
contention of more than one Hungarian critic that through the early
1930s there were troubling similarities between the "historic situations"
in Hungary and America. Reactionary regimes were in power in both
170
countries. More than that, fascism was on the rise in the form of the
Horthy police and the California police force. Hungarian and American
workers were both learning "first hand" about the consequences of
reactionary "terror."
Despite his outspoken opposition to fascism Upton Sinclair
consistently refused to align himself with communists. Unlike many
American liberals who became enchanted with Soviet communism,
Sinclair remained a democratic socialist who was suspicious of
communism. He could be accused of faddism in that he could be
seduced by any number of "quack cures" for what ailed society in
general and its members in particular. Vegetarianism, prohibitionism,
spiritualism, and sex hygiene campaigns did at various times have a 
devotee in Upton Sinclair. But never was the fad—or the reality—of
communism attractive to him.
At the same time it must be said that Sinclair was quite capable of
shutting the horrors of Soviet communism out of his mind. And if, for
example, the facts of Stalin's purges did penetrate his defenses, he
refused to criticize Soviet Russia publicly. Having made a long private
practice of ignoring family responsibilities and emotional commitments,
he made a lengthy public career of ignoring the consequences of
idealism and power run amok in Lenin's and Stalin's Russia.
Why? Perhaps his first wife put it best: "He (Sinclair) is a 
Conservative by instinct and a radical by choice." His second wife,
Mary Craig Kimbrough sized her husband up a bit differently: "Upton
Sinclair knows nothing about human nature, except that he is
determined to change it." What may be even more relevant to the
question at hand is that Sinclair was, according to biographer Leon
Harris, an "American romantic." As such, he was emotionally incapable
of embracing or condemning communism.
But Upton Sinclair was never hesitant to condemn American
Capitalism, whether it had run amok or not. And Hungarians, notes
Vadon, were anxious to read those condemnations. His barely
fictionalized attack on John D. Rockefeller and lesser American
petroleum barons, Oil!, was translated into Hungarian within a year of
171
its American debut; and it eventually "enjoyed eight publications" in
Hungary.
A year later Sinclair published Boston, which Hungarian and
American critics alike have long considered to be one of his best
works. The centerpiece of the story is what Vadon labels the "judicial
murder" of two Italian immigrant anarchists Nicolai Sacco and
Bartolomeo Vanzetti. In retrospect, Sinclair was not so sure that such a 
label was entirely accurate. According to Harris, he "gradually" became
convinced that Sacco and Vanzetti "had at least known about the hold
up" (which led to the murder of the payroll guards for which the two
men stood trial). In the final analysis Sinclair tended to agree with local
Boston radicals who thought that "Sacco was guilty and Vanzetti knew
it." But whatever his speculations about their guilt or innocence,
Sinclair was certain that they had not received a fair trial.
Sinclair did entertain more than idle hope that Boston would bring
him at least a Pulitzer, if not a Nobel prize. His casual friend and
occasional correspondent, H. L. Mencken, thought that Sinclair had no
business accepting the latter: "A man who hates capitalism as ardently
as Upton Sinclair could not conceivably accept money from a dynamite
manufacturer."
There was no need to worry. Sinclair would never win either prize.
By 1934 another prize loomed before him: the governorship of
California. Now fifty-six, Sinclair was not exactly a political novice. As a 
socialist he had run and lost a New Jersey congressional race years
earlier. In 1931 Norman Thomas approached him to run for president
on the socialist ticket. Three years later Sinclair would resign from the
Socialist Party to run for governor as a Democrat and on his EPIC (End
Poverty in California) pledge.
Tired of the socialist schisms, sick of losing and being ignored,
Sinclair decided that part of the problem was the word "socialist" itself.
Hence his decision to register as a Democrat and pitch his appeal in
the direction of the "ruined middle class." Fellow Democrats Franklin
and Eleanor Roosevelt did not immediately spurn their new ally, but
they pointedly refused to endorse his candidacy. So did most of
172
Hollywood, Charlie Chaplin and a very few others excepted. In fact,
movie magnate Louis B. Mayer led the forces against Sinclair. Studios
threatened to move to Florida if Sinclair won. Fake newsreels were
deployed against him. In sum, a then astonishing $10,000,000 was spent
to defeat him. In this instance, money did a good deal of talking.
Sinclair lost by approximately 350,000 votes out of 2.5 million cast.
Never again would he run for elective office.
If the career of Upton Sinclair, the politician, was over, the career
of Sinclair, the writer, was not. Professor Vadon chronicles the
publications and Hungarian of many more Upton Sinclair books,
including his autobiography, which received two Hungarian
translations and which H. L. Mencken thought was Sinclair's best work.
But Upton Sinclair's popularity in Hungary was not necessarily
without interruption. After 1949 serious, sustained criticism of his
works could be found in Hungarian periodicals and scholarly journals.
Suddenly, Vadon writes, Sinclair was being dismissed as a "vacillating
pseudo-writer, a gutless unprincipled careerist with the political views
of a fascist." Such harsh attacks were followed by something arguably
worse: silence. Between the late 1940s and the late 1950s virtually
nothing was written about Upton Sinclair in Hungary. Why?
It is Vadon's contention that the Cold War was doing its best to
freeze out all non-communist, non-marxist writers, the socialist Upton
Sinclair included. In effect, he was put on the "blacklist," thereby
denying the Hungarian reading public access to his works. Not until
the 1960s and Hungarian thaw of the larger Cold War was he "restored
to grace."
Among the first Upton Sinclair books to find their way back into
the hands of Hungarian readers were the eleven volumes (and 7,364
pages) of the Lanny Budd series. As an overall literary work this series
was, in Vadon's choice words, "worse than the best of Sinclair's art,"
but nonetheless readers in Hungary and elsewhere "greedily devoured"
each new volume.
Nazi sympathizers and Soviet sympathizers alternately took
Sinclair to task for his alleged anti-Nazi and anti-Soviet leanings. As we
173
have seen, Sinclair leaned most decisively in the anti-Nazi direction.
That he was subjected to attacks from the right should not be
surprising. But Professor Vadon is interested in examining the critics to
Sinclair's left. It is noteworthy that democratic socialist Upton Sinclair
first received acclaim in Hungary because of his commitment to that
version of socialism. A half century later Upton Sinclair was still firmly 
in the democratic socialist camp. But for a time during the height of the
Cold War that very commitment to democratic socialism was more
than enough to call his immortality into question—at least in what once
constituted the "Soviet bloc" countries. Lehel Vadon has painstakingly
charted Upton Sinclair's flirtations with immortality—and official
death—and rebirth—in Hungary. Let us be thankful for this historian's
efforts. And let us all hope that Sinclair's future rests on his literary
merits—or demerits—and not on the machinations of political regimes,
east or west.
174


Lehel Vadon: Upton Sinclair in Hungary. Eger, Hungary: College Press, 1993. 125 pp. (könyvismertetés)

Vida, József

109 
AZ EGRI VARÁZSTORONY PROGRAMJAINAK BėVÍTÉSE 
MÚZEUMPEDAGÓGIAI ÓRÁKKAL 
Vida József 
Eszterházy Károly FĘiskola, Fizika Tanszék 
Abstract: Enlargement of programmes in the Magic Tower (Eger) by 
museum pedagogy activities 
Museum pedagogy offers an alternative way of learning for pupils. 
Nowadays, when decline of popularity of sciences is obvious, necessity of 
science museum programmes is out of question. This is the objective of the new 
didactic programmes defined by the Magic Tower in Eger. The new programmes 
extend to the following areas:  
1. Traditional museum visits. 
2. Visits focusing to the history of technology. 
3. Visit to an 18th century astronomical observatory. 
4. Hands on experiments in the Magic Hall. 
5. Planetarium programmes. 
6. Special school classes in physics, chemistry and geology. 
All these programmes are interactive, joining to the science curriculum and 
consulted with the teachers in order to reach the maximum didactic output. 
 
Majdnem harminc esztendeje, hogy rendszeres múzeumpedagógiai kínálat 
várja az iskolapedagógusokat tanítványaikkal, közülük sokan gyakori és tudatos 
látogatói is a múzeumoknak. Míg ma tanórákat tarthatnak a kiállító teremben, 
addig a hetvenes évekig a gyerekeknek a múzeumok szinte kihasználatlan he-
lyek voltak. Ekkoriban jelentek meg az elsĘ múzeumpedagógusok, akik kezdet-
ben csak tárlatvezetéssel foglalkoztak. Az idĘ telt és múlt, a határok tágultak, a 
múzeumpedagógia szakma lett, több mint tíz éve már diplomát is lehet szerezni 
belĘle. Mégsem mondhatjuk el, hogy minden pedagógus tudatosan beépítené a 
múzeumok pedagógiai kínálatát napi munkájába. Ugyanis kevés szó esik arról, 
hogy az iskolai oktató-nevelĘ tevékenységet eddig is „kisegítĘ” múzeumpeda-
gógiától mit várhat az iskola. Sokan egy jó kiruccanásnak, az óra elbliccelésé-
nek, a tanulmányi kirándulás programjának egyfajta idĘkitöltésének tartja a mú-
zeumlátogatást.  
Ma igazán nagy szükség van az általános és középiskolákban a természettu-
dományos tantárgyak megkedveltetésének. Évente a szükségesnél 5–600 reál-
szakos tanárral van kevesebb Magyarországon. Ezt ellensúlyozni már nem lehet 
110 
osztályösszevonásokkal, tanári óraszámemeléssel, tantárgyak integrációjával, 
levelezĘ tagozaton történĘ kiegészítĘ képzéssel, és a demográfiai gyereklétszám-
csökkenés sem oldja meg a problémát. Ha nem lenne az országban fizika-, ké-
mia-, biológia- és matematikaoktatás, és nem képeznénk ki mĦszaki szakembe-
reket, akkor nemhogy az új tudományos eredmények kifejlesztésére alkalmas 
szakemberek fogynának el, de még az alapvetĘ, a civilizációhoz szükséges esz-
közök mĦködtetését sem fogjuk tudni megoldani. 
A természettudományos és mĦszaki múzeumok a tudományos szemlélet alap-
jainak bevéséséhez járulhatnak hozzá. Egy felsĘ tagozatos diák már az egyes 
tudományágak alapjait sajátítja el, fontos, hogy számára a részek egésszé szinte-
tizálódjanak. Középiskolában a megértés, az alkotások, élmények befogadása, a 
tananyagba való beillesztés, és a valódi véleménynyilvánítás kialakulása az el-
érendĘ cél. Ehhez nyújthatnak segítséget a pedagógiailag jól megtervezett, elĘ-
készített múzeumlátogatások.  
Az alap- és középfokú oktatás valamint a múzeum egymás felé törekvése a 
fentieken túl idĘszerĦ az iskolarendszer alapjaiban történt megváltozása miatt is. 
Ehhez a sokféleséghez is jól kell alkalmazkodnia a múzeumnak.  
Közoktatás és múzeumok új kapcsolatának, s a kapcsolat maradandóságának 
szükségessége megkívánja a szervezési szinttĘl a módszertani szintig való kö-
vetkezetes együttmĦködést. Ez mindkét fél részérĘl alkalmazkodást, és egymás-
sal szembeni szemléleti nyitottságot kíván meg.  
A múzeumban megszerzett ismeret tökéletesen illeszkedjen a már meglévĘ-
höz, mert csak így lesz maradandó. A múzeumpedagógusnak ismernie, alkal-
maznia kell az iskolapedagógus módszereit, kettejük együttmĦködésébe annak is 
bele kell férnie, hogy nemcsak egyetértenek, de egyet is akarnak, és céljaikat 
összehangoltan szeretnék elérni. 
A múzeumpedagógus a kiállítási térben leggyakrabban a felfedezéses tanulás 
módszerét alkalmazza, amely a gondolkodás fejlesztését szolgálja, és számára is 
a legjobb, legelĘnyösebb, hiszen a gyerekek ilyenkor maguk vetnek fel kérdése-
ket, és maguk adnak rá válaszokat, azaz nem készen kapott ismeretekhez jutnak. 
Mindez a konstruktivitást fejleszti. Nagyon elĘnyös, ha egy-egy kiállításrészben 
felfedezhetĘ problémákat így beszélünk meg a gyerekekkel. Ha minél többször 
szóhoz jutnak, elmondhatják elĘismereteiket, véleményüket. Személyessé, való-
ban élménnyé válik számukra a múzeumban-tanulás. 
Az elsĘ lépéseket a múzeumpedagógusnak kell megtennie, hiszen elĘször ne-
ki kell felmérnie, hogy mit tud nyújtani a múzeum az iskolának. Tapasztalatok 
szerint az orientáció nélkül maradó iskolapedagógusok csak az állandó és idĘ-
szaki kiállítások egy részét tudják „használni” munkájuk során, és múzeumi 
szakember segítsége nélkül azt sem mindig úgy, ahogy a legjobb, leghatéko-
nyabb lenne. 
111 
A kínálat lehetĘségeinek összeállítása a Varázstorony egyes részlegeiben 
Hagyományos látogatói programok: turizmus, tanulmányi kirándulások, sza-
badidĘ eltöltése (napközis csoportok foglalkoztatása)  
Történeti (technikatörténeti) jellegĦ múzeumi tárlat: Csillagászati Múzeum, 
Camera Obscura (periszkóp). Múzeumunk részérĘl az 1966-os megnyitás óta ez 
a hagyományos múzeumlátogatás adott. A látogató csoportok három nyelven 
(hangfelvételrĘl, vagy élĘszóban) kaphatják meg a legfontosabb ismereteket. 
Turisták, néhány fĘs csoportok esetében alkalmazzuk ezt a módszert, mely inter-
aktivitásra is ad lehetĘséget, de igazából nem nevezhetĘ múzeumpedagógiai 
programnak.  
Természettudományi jellegĦ foglalkozás: Camera Obscura, Varázsterem in-
teraktív (fizika, földrajz), Planetárium (csillagos éggel kapcsolatos), Távcsöves 
megfigyelések (megfigyelĘ csillagászat). Tanulócsoportok fogadásánál a múze-
umpedagógiai foglalkozásokhoz már hasonlítanak az itt alkalmazott módszere-
ink. A tanulók elĘzetesen kérdezhetnek, a legtöbb helyen közbe is szólhatnak, a 
végén pedig beszélgetés alakul ki a tárlatvezetĘ és a tanulók között. Az eszközök 
ismertetĘi kapcsolódnak az iskolai tananyagokhoz, bár az iskolapedagógussal 
nem elĘre egyeztetett módon. Éppen ezért a kísérĘ tanár is szóhoz jut, úgymond 
„helyre teszi” a látottakat, hallottakat, emlékezteti tanítványait, hogy mikor és 
hol találkoztak tanulmányaik során az itt látottakkal, hallottakkal, ill. mikor fog 
majd sorra kerülni az iskolai tananyagban. 
Új múzeumpedagógiai órák kidolgozása folyamatban van. Erre pályázatokat 
nyújtottunk be. Tömören összefoglalva terveink a következĘk:  
A Csillagászati Múzeumban: Történeti, technikatörténeti jellegĦ foglalkozá-
sok, csillagászati szakkörök iskolai tananyaghoz kapcsolódva (kicsiknek és na-
gyoknak: napóráktól a távcsövezésig) 
Varázsteremben: Az interaktivitás megtartása mellett az eszközpark bĘvítése, 
egy-egy bemutatót az iskolai tananyag témaköreihez csoportosítva. 
Planetáriumban: Új, az iskolai tananyagokhoz jól illeszkedĘ, ill. azokat ki-
egészítĘ programok kidolgozása folyik (Naprendszer, mĦholdak, Ħrtávcsövek, 
Exobolygó kutatás, Ħrszemét, Ħrhajózás, csillagászattörténet, Holdkutatás, Mars-
ra-szállás, Föld-Hold kapcsolat stb.). A planetáriumi tér az épület rekonstrukció-
ja során kétszeresére bĘvül, így lehetĘség lesz az  oktatótérben csoportok számá-
ra kialakított szakköri jellegĦ múzeumpedagógiai foglalkozásokra is.  
Távcsöves megfigyelések: Nem csak iskolás csoportoknak, hanem tanárto-
vábbképzésekhez és a nagyközönség számára is tervezünk rendszeresen progra-
mokat. Ezeket megelĘzĘen a követĘ megfigyelésekkel kapcsolatos értelmezĘ 
kiselĘadásokat tartunk, melyek anyagát az iskolapedagógusokkal közösen állít-
juk össze. A távcsövezéseket különleges, vagy érdekes csillagászati jelenségek 
alkalmával szervezzük meg.  
112 
Rendhagyó órák új szerepkörben: Napjainkban pályázatok kapcsán partner-
iskolák rendszerének kialakítása folyik. Ehhez kiválasztottunk Egerben egy 
gimnáziumot, egy több tagiskolából álló alsó fokú intézményt, a siketek és na-
gyothallók intézményét valamint a fĘiskola gyakorló iskoláját. Számukra térí-
tésmentesen biztosítunk programokat a Varázstoronyban és a természettudomá-
nyi karon rendezendĘ természettudományos tantárgyak rendhagyó óráin. A 
rendhagyó órák végsĘ kialakításának a próbái ezek. Egy-két év idĘszaka alatt 
gyĦjtött tapasztalatok útján alakul ki az a rendszer, amely megmutatja a köve-
tendĘ legalkalmasabb módszereket, és azt, hogy tematikájában miként kell mó-
dosítani a már mĦködĘ rendhagyó óráinkat, ill. milyen újabb igények merülnek 
fel.   
A tervezés alatt álló, pályázatokra épülĘ múzeumpedagógiai foglalkozásokra 
akciótervet készítettünk, mely az alábbi idĘ és tevékenységrendszer szerint áll 
össze: 
x Találkozó és eszmecsere a múzeumi pedagógusok és a kiválasztott bázis-
iskolák pedagógusai között: verbális és kérdĘíves felmérés, melynek 
tárgya: mit várnak, mit szeretnének kapni az iskolában tanító pedagógu-
sok a múzeumtól? (Óvodák, általános- és középiskolák, speciálisan kép-
zĘ iskolák Egerben.) 
x A „kereslet” és a „kínálat” ismeretében a pontos akcióterv kidolgozása: 
Múzeumpedagógus és iskolapedagógus közös, módszertanilag végig-
gondolt, együttes munkája nyomán körvonalazódik a foglalkozások ter-
ve.  
x A múzeumpedagógiai foglalkozások részletes kidolgozása.  
x A tervezett foglalkozások kipróbálása. 
x Az eredmények mérése: megfigyelés (pedagógus, múzeumpedagógus), 
beszélgetés, a programban résztvevĘ iskolapedagógusok, és a részt vevĘ 
tanulók véleményének összegyĦjtése. A program elsĘ évi tapasztalatai-
nak összegzése. 
x A program átdolgozása, majd kiterjesztése több iskolára, megvalósítha-
tóságának távlati tervi kidolgozása. 
x PR tevékenység. 
 
Példaként a következĘkben bemutatjuk egy múzeumpedagógiai foglalkozás 
tervezetét, amit Vasné Tana Judit a Csillagászati Múzeum tárlatvezetĘje állított 
össze. 
Kalandozás egy 18 századi csillagvizsgálóban 
(A múzeumi foglalkozást megelĘzĘ iskolai tanóra kapcsolódó részletének 
óravázlatát, a tantárgyat tanító szaktanár készíti el a múzeumpedagógussal tör-
113 
tént egyeztetés és a múzeumpedagógus által átnyújtott múzeumi foglalkozás 
leirata alapján.)   
 
Óravázlat: 
Kerettantervi tantárgyak megnevezése, amelyekben használható: Természet-
ismeret, fizika, földrajz.  
í Természetismeret 6. osztály:  
Tájékozódás a Földön: Szélességi és hosszúsági körök, földrajzi fokhá-
lózat. Miért változnak a nappalok és az éjszakák? – A Nap napi látszóla-
gos mozgása.  
í Fizika 8. osztály: 
Kerettantervi tananyagban kapcsolódó órák: fénytan, fényvisszaverĘdés 
síktükör, gömbtükrök, fénytörés, optikai eszközök. 
í Fizika 11. osztály: 
A fény terjedése, visszaverĘdés, törés (Snellius-Descartes-törvény, teljes 
visszaverĘdés, optikai eszközök képalkotása, leképezési törvény). 
Évfolyam/korcsoport: 6-12 / 12-17. 
IdĘtartam: 1 óra  
Eszközök: lencsés és tükrös távcsövek, meridián vonal, grafikon, kérdĘ-
ív. 
 
Cél: A 18. században épült egri csillagásztorony története, az épület szer-
kezetének feltérképezése, helységeinek és mĦszereinek megismerése, a csillagá-
szatban használt egyszerĦ eszközök mĦködésének megismertetése.  
A tanulási helyzet bemutatása részletesebben:  
A torony helyiségeit végig járva megismerjük törtétét, helyiségeit, és mĦsze-
reit. 
Frontális osztályfoglalkozás – egy toronybeli sétával egybekötött, a foglalko-
zásvezetĘ kérdéseivel irányított beszélgetés a tanulókkal. A záró feladatnál cso-
portmunka, kérdĘív kitöltése. 
 
Témák: (Válogatási lehetĘségek adott korcsoporthoz) 
Megmásszuk a csillagásztornyot. Miért építették a csillagásztornyot magasra?  
Gróf Eszterházy Károly a csillagvizsgáló építtetĘje. 
A Specula csillagásztorony építésének rövid története (Specula a látótorony, 
nézĘtorony). 
Az 54 méter magas, nyolcszögletĦ torony szerkezete, és helységei. 
A Hell-féle forgatható kupola, és az alatta levĘ ekvatoriális távcsĘ. 
Hell Miksa az egri csillagásztorony szellemi vezetĘje és a Camera Obscura 
tervezĘje. 
Camera Obscura a város bemutatását szolgáló berendezés. 
A csillagok delelési idĘpontjának meghatározása passzázs távcsĘvel.  
114 
Az égi meridián és a delelés fogalma. Eger földrajzi koordinátáinak megálla-
pítása. 
MegfigyelĘtermek: A sokablakos megfigyelĘtermek funkciója.  
A múzeum csillagászati eszközeinek a felismerése, (lencsés és tükrös távcsö-
vek, kvadráns, csillagászati óra) és használatuk. 
A csillagászati dél meghatározása a meridián vonal segítségével.  
A kĘpadlón megjelenĘ Nap képének tanulmányozása (napfoltok megfigyelé-
se napnézĘ távcsĘvel). 
Záró feladat: csoportmunka, kérdĘív kitöltése 
 
A múzeumi foglalkozást követĘ tanórák kapcsolódó részleteinek óravázlata:   
(Kutatási feladatok kiadása továbbtanulási céllal, tehetséggondozási céllal 
egyénekre szabva) 
Lehetséges oktatási célok: 
A csillagásztorony technika történeti emlékeink bemutatása. A 18. sz-i csil-
lagvizsgáló szempontok szerinti bemutatása (helyiségek és funkciója, mĦszerek 
csoportosítása és funkciója). 
A csillagvizsgáló fontosabb mĦszereinek szerkezeti tanulmányozása.  
A lencsés és tükrös távcsĘ. Az objektív és az okulár fókusztávolságának ösz-
szefüggéseinek megismerése, a szögnagyítás. 
Lencsés távcsĘ, tükrös távcsĘ kézbevétele, szakszerĦ használatuk. (Pl. Ho-
gyan történik az égitestek követése a távcsĘvel?) 
A kvadráns és a passzázs távcsĘ szerkezete és funkciója. Megegyezések és 
különbségek felismerése. 
Az idĘmérés a csillagászatban: a délvonal, mint napóra megismerése. 
A csillagászati órák, csillagidĘ ismérvei. Miért sietnek a csillagászati órák a 
mindennapi életben használt órákhoz képest? 
A szerzett ismeretek rendszerezése, rögzítése. 
 
Csillagászai fogalmak értelmezése:  
Mi a delelés, a meridián vonal, csillagászati dél,  
Lyukkamera, napfoltok, 
GyĦjtĘlencse, fókuszpont, fókusztávolság, nagyítás, 
Akromatikus távcsĘ, horizontális szerelésĦ távcsĘ, ekvatoriális szerelésĦ táv-
csĘ,  
Tükrös távcsĘ, 
Csillagászati óra, csillagidĘ, 
Passzázs távcsĘ, kvadráns,  
Napóra, helyi idĘ, 
Camera Obscura. 
 
Lehetséges nevelési feladatok: 
115 
A tudományos ismeretszerzés iránti igény kialakítása. 
A csillagászattal kapcsolatos ismeretek iránti igény fejlesztése. 
A szerzet elméleti tudás gyakorlati tapasztalással való elmélyítése. 
Közvetlen tapasztalattal szerzett ismeretek a 18. század technika történeti 
eszközökrĘl. 
ÉlményszerĦ ismeretátadás. 
Környezettudatosságra nevelés. 
Fegyelmezett, érdeklĘdĘ múzeumi viselkedés kultúra kialakítása. 
Esztétikára való nevelés az emberi alkotások bemutatásával. 
Kapcsolódó kompetenciák 
Természettudományos és technikai kompetenciák: Az aktuális tartalom az 
alábbi képességének fejlesztését szolgálja: megfigyelés, kísérletezés, mérés, 
következtetés, problémamegoldás, összehasonlítás, rendszerezés, lényeg kieme-
lése, törvényszerĦségek analógiák felismerése, logikai készség, kreativitás, gya-
korlatiasság, társas kompetenciák. 
Felhasznált irodalom: 
Káldy Mária: Múzeumpedagógiai terv (TIOP 1.2.2. Múzeumok iskolabarát fejlesztése és 
oktatási és képzési szerepének infrastrukturális erĘsítése c. projekt) 
Nádasi András: 
Csillaghírnök – különleges muzeális és modern csillagászati taneszközök (Elektronikus 
Könyv és Nevelés) 
Balla István: http://www.fn.hu/belfold/20100107/kihalnak_fizikatanarok/ 
Dr. Hadnagy Imre József: A múzeumpedagógia szoros kapocs a múzeum és iskola 
között,  
Múzeum unalom nélkül:  
http://oktatas.origo.hu/index.php?page=cimketar&dir=m&keyword=muuzeum 
Vida, J. – Ujfaludi, L.: Magic Hall of Science in the Tower of Lyceum, Eger, Tansactions 
of microCAD International Scientific Conference, Miskolc, 2007. ISBN 978-963-
661-742-4 Ö 
Dr. Vida József: A Varázstorony oktatási-képzési funkciójának erĘsítése múzeumpeda-
gógiai programokkal (2009. 11. 20. Tudománynapi elĘadás) 
 
 
 


Az egri varázstorony programjainak bővítése múzeumpedagógiai órákkal

Szilassy, Zoltán

ZOLTÁN SZILASSY
LEHEL VADON: MASTERPIECES OFAMERICAN
DRAMA: AN ANTHOLOGY AND INTRODUCTION 
Eger: Eszterházy Károly Tanárképző Főiskola, 1994.
Two Volumes, Vol. I. 602 pp.; Vol. II. 576 pp.
Although a book-review should not also pose as a "list of contents"
for the book it is trying to evaluate, in this case I feel inclined to do so.
Lehel Vadon's elegant, impressive, hardcover edition of the
abovesaid—in fact, metaphorically speaking, fruitful and, practically
speaking, juicy summary of his decades-taking philological and
empathy-oriented searches and researches; the two volumes also
designed and, author-by-author, introduced by him—features the
following unforgettables: E. G. O'Neill, Long Day's Journey into Night, 
Th. Wilder, Our Town; Clifford Odets, Waiting for Lefty; A. Miller,
Death of a Salesman; The Crucible; T. Williams, A Streetcar Named 
Desire; The Glass Menagerie; E. Albee, Who's Afraid of Virginia 
Woolf?; Sam Shepard, Buried Child; LeRoi Jones (Imamu Amiri
Baraka), Dutchman.
This long list of major American playwrights, and their "No.l."
plays, selected for their getting anthologized for Hungarian
Americanists (juniors or seniors, as they may be) raises an important
question for me: is not the main title of this selection (Masterpieces of
American Drama) a teeny bit misleading? Even if quite a number of
experts maintain that American Drama—as such—began no sooner
than with O'Neill, one still wonders whether "the Americanization of
199
American Drama"—using Péter Egri's wording—had not begun a 
century and half ago?
On the other, somewhat "Hungarianized" hand, tributes must be
paid to Lehel Vadon's selection and his very helpful intros to these
items, really masterpieces. The more so, because Vadon's way of
selecting corresponds not only with possible, particular usability of his
having selected American dramatic texts (and/or theatrical scenarios)
for Hungarians, but quite reliable experts, abroad, seem to testify to his
very choices! E.g.: with due consideration to O'Neill's, T. Williams', A.
Miller's certain plays being produced (on- /off-off/ Broadway and at
university theatres).
Statistics (according to Anta Productions Project Listing; see,
Educational Theatre Journal, Oct., 1970, U.S.A.) give preference to
items of this selection: to these very plays, not only as classics, never to
be forgotten, but also as "old-timers" not only to be "forgiven", but
given another chance!
Getting down to 'brass-tacks' and, of course, to Lehel Vadon's
choices: beside Shakespeare (20); O'Neill (10), Williams (11), Miller
(8), and Albee (5) seem to have earned most of the productional
reputation, from 1960 until 1970.
Another respect, from some of us, must be given to Vadon's
choices if, very possibly "Drama as Cultural Sign: American Dramatic
Criticism, 1945—1978", penned by C. W. E. Bigsby (American
Quaterly, Vol. XXX./No. 3, p. 30. & passim)—has helped me to
appreciate and re-appreciate things Lehel Vadon has been trying to
suggest, namely: that there may be centuries' and decades' cultural
heritage to wonder upon, but then there come years when one has to
ponder. O'Neill, I am afraid,—and with due alteration of details—is the
"American Shakespeare", some Bible to re-interpret, some Homer to be 
re-read, some Victor Hugo, or Walt Whitman, or Allen Ginsberg to
celebrate all these. The anthology testifies to this unique heritage as
well as to its no less unique followers.
200


Lehel Vadon: Masterpieces of American Drama: An Anthology and Introduction. Eger: Eszterházy Károly Tanárképző Főiskola, 1994. Two Volumes, Vol. I. 602 pp. Vol. II. 576 pp.(könyvismertetés)

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