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Everday Life at LSU
PASCAL: You know what his schedule was? He'd get to the university about nine o'clock in the morning. And you might see him strolling around the campus, smoking a big black cigar, until it was time for his ten o'clock class. Then he would come in and teach it. If he had another class, he would go out and smoke another cigar and think. That's about the way he carried on here.
He did his work at home. Generally, he would go home for his main meal, around noon, and take a siesta. Then, at three o'clock, he would begin his work. And except for a very light supper–almost every day, he had a very light supper, prepared by Lissy–he worked through until three, three-thirty in the morning. She was an academic widow, for the most part. Although he did try out many things on her, would test things on her. So, she was not someone who was entirely out of the picture.
L. VOEGELIN: He very seldom went to bed before two o'clock in the morning. And he had to have breakfast at seven-thirty. Then he read the newspapers and the journals. And then he went and worked, and then we had lunch. After lunch he'd always have a nap of at least two hours–that's where he caught up on his lost sleep. And then he read. At night he started really to work.
And you made him breakfast and lunch.
L. VOEGELIN: Yes.
Did he ever cook?
L. VOEGELIN: No, never. He always was very happy to cook omelettes, but that was all he could cook.
Did you make him Viennese coffee or American coffee for breakfast?
L. VOEGELIN: For breakfast? Oh, I had American coffee made in a coffee machine. But we never had coffee for breakfast. We had tea. Eric didn't like coffee for breakfast, and I couldn't stand it. Both of us had tea.
And he did most of his work in his study at home rather than in his office?
L. VOEGELIN: Yes. In Louisiana, he had to teach in the morning, of course. From nine to ten, and from eleven to twelve he always had to. And on Saturdays, of course. They always put him in a Saturday class, especially from eleven to twelve, because he was the only one who could make the students come. Otherwise they would leave.
JO SCURRIA: I remember he always wanted his classes at the time of eleven o'clock–from eleven to twelve on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Those were his class times.
Why did he want those times?
SCURRIA: I don't know exactly. You didn't make up a schedule–classes were given by Dr. Voegelin at the eleven to twelve hour. He never did drive, and Mrs. Voegelin would come and pick him up. She'd come into my office and talk to me and wait for him to get out of class. I guess they just went home after that and did whatever a brilliant man like that does at home.
He would go home with her, and you never found him around the hallways in the afternoon. I think at the time he was also teaching a course in jurisprudence in the law school. At that time, they did give you a class load, and then you also had time for research. So, he probably taught about six hours and used the others for research.
If he did most of his work at home, his office wasn't filled with books?
SCURRIA: He had books in his office, but he had evidently a lot more at home, because, other than at eleven o'clock, you'd never find him in his office. He was always at home. But he was not unreachable: if I had questions about a manuscript or something, I felt comfortable calling him.
So you had the task of typing Voegelin's manuscripts? Did you do all his typing?
SCURRIA: I must have typed something like 5500 pages of manuscripts. Remember, we didn't have any electric typewriters; we had all elite typewriters, that was what we typed with. But Dr. Voegelin wanted his done with a pica type. I had an old, old Underwood typewriter, and I can't think now how I ever typed on that typewriter. But I typed on that old typewriter all those pages of manuscript for Dr. Voegelin.
The man never failed to compliment me, saying, "Where did you learn to type that good?" It was just typing; it wasn't any big deal, especially for a typist. It all just came naturally to me. But he never failed to compliment me on anything I did for him.
Elite type is the smaller?
SCURRIA: The smaller, and he wanted the pica type. I think that's what his publishers wanted. And all his own typing was done on a manual typewriter.
So, he typed what he wrote himself?
SCURRIA: He typed himself. Dr. Harris was the chairman of the department at that time, and I said, "Dr. Harris, this stuff is all Greek to me anyway.” But when Dr. Voegelin was typing, he would want to type over something like an e with an o or an o with an e, and I never could tell if it was supposed to be an o or an e. I always had to ask him about it, because I guess he thought that I knew what the Greek words meant, but I didn't. But he typed it, and he'd have all these little things in the margins, you know–these thoughts that he had had afterward.
But he was quite a chore, and I used to think, "Is this stuff ever going to stop coming?" I guess it didn't, though, because as long as he lived he was always producing stuff! I found that, when he left, I truly missed all the typing that I had done. I was sorry he had left, because he was truly a great, great man.
You could read his writing, too?
SCURRIA: Yeah, I could read his writing. In fact, I still have to read it to people. It sounds like I'm tooting my own horn, but I am reading what he put down because nobody else can read it!
You didn't just work for Dr. Voegelin, did you?
SCURRIA: No, I worked for the whole department. There were five of us in the department at that time. I was the only secretary; they just had the one secretary. And no matter what else I had to do, Voegelin's work came first. I was not exempt from anything else, but his work was put right alongside everything else in the department.
