Introduction

Born in January, 1911, Ludwig Hillquit Gerber composed his autobiography on audio cassette tapes at the turn of the 21^st-century, hoping to present readers with a view of his experiences as a lawyer, soldier, and movie producer, many of them vignettes informing the reader of social currents of the 20^th-century. Although he died before completing the work, Gerber presented himself as the epitome of the American Dream, a man who went from growing up without any money to being a Hollywood lawyer.

Examining his autobiography, “Happenstance: A Man of the Century Remembers,” provides a valuable interpretive framework for understanding Gerber’s perceptions of three facets of the American Dream: identity, money, and success. He was not a famous man, yet he came in contact with many well-known people, and can serve as a bridge between the study of the great figures of the 20^th-century and middle-class culture. He is an excellent example of the ambiguity of identity in 20^th-century culture, highlighting the contradiction and inherent tension between the perception of an individual and reality.

His autobiography presents a riddle of contradiction: which is the accurate representation of Ludwig Gerber—successful, self-made man, or mediocre, self-aggrandizing man? Many of Gerber’s contradictions were inherent in the time and milieu in which he lived: for example, his simultaneous belief in socialism and desire for success was not unique, similar beliefs were held by many including his mentor, Morris Hillquit. Another of Gerber’s contradictions, his penchant for connecting himself to any important historical event or person, contrasts starkly with his autobiography’s silence on the McCarthy proceedings. As a socialist and a Hollywood lawyer, undoubtedly the hearings touched his life in some manner.

Gerber used his autobiography as a tool to try to shape the reader’s perception of who he was. Gerber presented himself as a self-made man, one who rose from economically difficult conditions to a certain degree of material comfort and one who traveled in circles of famous people. He also presented himself as a person whose life was shaped by being in the right place at the right time, what he termed “happenstance.” He attributed most of his career moves to happenstance; whether that was an accurate reflection of his professional life, or simply a convenient literary device that worked to integrate his experiences, it provides us with an insight into his perceptions of his life.

Identity

What’s in a name?

There are many different motivations for name changes. While universally a symbol of reinventing the self, the deeper significance of a name change reflects the circumstances of each individual. Linguistically, names stand in for the objects they reference, and so become inextricably linked to identity. Cultural signifiers within a name can code messages and meaning, allowing us to form preconceived notions about individuals based upon our own stereotypes and associations. Thus, one of the most common and familiar motivations behind name changes was an immigrant’s desire to assimilate into the American culture.

Gerber shared in this rite of self-making, when at the age of 18 he changed his name. His name change was neither drastic nor dramatic. He did not seek to erase his heritage in the process of reinventing himself, as someone like Ehrich Weiss did in changing his name to Harry Houdini. Gerber, in his efforts to establish his identity, appears to have changed his name out of a desire for a greater sense of belonging, both within his family as well as within the world beyond. He felt that his name was too simple, not important sounding enough. One of his brothers was named Gustave Augustus Gerber, another Joseph Henry Benjamin Hanford Gerber. Perhaps Ludwig Gerber would seem a rather plain name beside those two. Gerber made the change shortly after becoming clerk to Morris Hillquit. [1] Perhaps Gerber felt a need for a more important name as he started out in the world.

I had a conversation with my father shortly thereafter and said, ‘Pop, you have given fine names, middle names to your sons.’ I didn’t quite understand why I was just plain old Ludwig Gerber, that I had no middle name. My father had given his sons grandiloquent names. My oldest brother, for example, Gustave, was named Augustus Gerber. Pop looked at me, thought for a second, and said, ‘What else? Ludwig Hillquit Gerber.’ And so I became Ludwig Hillquit Gerber. [2]

Gerber revealed two interesting aspects in relating the story of his name change. Unlike most individuals seeking to reinvent themselves, he did not choose his own name. He essentially asked his father for his new name. Gerber demonstrated the will and desire to have a new name, but also demonstrated a need for approval from his father. Gerber’s father, in turn, followed the godfathering tradition in choosing the name of a man he may have hoped would be able to give assistance to his son.

The second aspect relates to the language that Gerber used to describe his name in contrast with his brother’s name. He used “plain” to refer to his own name, and “grandiloquent” to refer to his brother’s name; these are two of the three Ciceronian terms used to describe rhetoric. As Kenneth Cmiel explained in Democratic Eloquence, the plain style equated generally to the poor, while the grandiloquent style equated to a privileged segment of society. By extension, Gerber seems to be saying his brother was important, or of the ‘ruling’ segment of family society, while Gerber himself was not important, or of the ‘dominated’ segment of family society. Although rhetoric styles were in transition during this time in America, it seems clear that Gerber was following the classic association of the two styles. He seems to have felt that he was less than his brothers in some manner, and the simpler name was a concrete reminder or symbol of that sense of inferiority. Perhaps to underscore the difference between the child and the man, and highlight the change in the way he perceived his position in the family, he summed up the discussion of his name change by saying, “It’s rather an imposing name and I, again, repeat I was proud of it then and am proud of it now.” [3] Understanding this family dynamic contributes to understanding his tendency to emphasize the important people he met in his life, and the importance of what he did.

Wealthy and socialist, irreconcilable contradiction?

The socialists of Gerber’s childhood and early career, individuals he would have been in contact with either through his father or through his mentor, Morris Hillquit, were working for a gradual transition to socialism from capitalism. They held to an evolutionary Marxist ideal, in which a slow transformation would occur as workers recognized their class interests and voted accordingly. As D. H. Leon noted, in his review of interpretations on American socialism, “prosperity or possibility of prosperity was likely a more important element in the political difficulties of American socialism than the racial, religious and ethnic divisions among Americans (including socialists), or even the anti-socialist policies of the Catholic Church in the AFL and elsewhere.” [4]

Hillquit, the well-spoken, polished lawyer, was more comfortable speaking to a well-meaning bourgeois audience than to the workers that he hoped would find advantage in the success of his ideology. “Although as Hillquit claimed one could be a revolutionary and still associate with the bourgeoisie and ‘live off’ the capitalist system, he nevertheless should have realized that his style of life tended to conflict with his propaganda. In less than two decades Hillquit had risen from the status of an indigent cuff-maker to that of a prosperous corporation lawyer.” [5] Hillquit may have enabled Gerber to feel that he could hold to his father’s socialist beliefs and have the material comfort he yearned for as a young man who had experienced two different worlds growing up: one in which on a daily basis there was not any money and one in which on weekend visits to his sister in Westchester County he experienced the life of a millionaire’s child.

Hidden identity: questions of sexual orientation?

Gerber freely admitted that there were parts of his life and self that were out of bounds for the reader. In introducing a couple of poems he wrote as a young man and included in his autobiography, he said, “I’m not going to give you all of it. Oh no. Oh no. ... Some of it is too revelatory.” [6] Reading that admission toward the end of the autobiography reinforces the reader’s impression that Gerber may have hidden a homosexual identity. He never married, and his one mention of a relationship with a woman, which takes place around 1958, seems more like a cover-up relationship than a genuine romance.

Close to 50 years old at the time, perhaps he was uneasy about the implications of being a confirmed bachelor the rest of his life. Unlike in earlier times when the implications of being a bachelor for life—a hidden homosexuality—were ignored, the implied status of the confirmed bachelor was potentially dangerous. With the era of McCarthyism came a focus on ‘perversity’ that lingered in society and shaped perceptions of homosexuals for many years after. And while it is understandable that if he were hiding a homosexual identity he wouldn’t talk about that social current, it is perplexing that a Hollywood lawyer, who was also a socialist, did not mention the other side of McCarthyism, that which is most (in)famous, the inquiry into communist activity in America. [7]

Two passages in the text raised the question of his sexual orientation in the reader’s mind. Both passages are marked by a hesitation in finding a term to describe the relation of the individual to Gerber, perhaps a self-censoring pause, and in one passage the language he did choose manages to cast further questions.

The first instance in the manuscript occurred in a discussion of a gift given to him by a soldier when he left the army. Describing whom the soldier was, he said, “I was presented by one of my loyal—I was going to say servitors—he was, although that’s not really the term.” By way of explaining the possible motives for the gift, and what he received, he said,

And to show his appreciation, to show his loyalty, perhaps to show his love, he presented me with a gift. A series of drawings that he had made throughout his service with me—throughout my service in the army abroad in Europe; in London, in England, in France, in Paris, in Germany. The drawings—charcoal drawings—were very well done and very beautiful. He was able, he was artistic, and devoted. [8]

Gerber’s use of the term “servitor” may be related to one or all of the following definitions found under the first heading in the Oxford English Dictionary:

d. Sc. A person in a subordinate office or employment; an assistant in a school; an apprentice, spec. a lawyer's apprentice or clerk. Obs.
f. A military attendant, a squire or page. rare.
g. A lover; = servant sb. 4 b. rare.

All the variants are either rare or obsolete, which makes the word choice particularly curious and interesting. He hesitated to use the term, not knowing quite how to describe the relationship between himself and the man. It is possible that he simply used archaic or rare language to talk about someone who was his assistant; his autobiography is filled with overstatement and impressive phrases. The overwhelming impression that the passage leaves the reader with, however, is that there was something more to the relationship that is not discussed. That this is a rare instance in which he does not name the individual he is talking about only helps to further that impression.

The second passage occurred later in the manuscript, when Gerber had broken his ankle during an ice storm in New York City. He had to get to Mount Kisco, NY, for a meeting the next day. Gerber said, “My—one of my friends, Frank D’Amico, volunteered to take me in his station wagon.” [9] That pause, indicated in the transcription by the dash, gives the reader the impression that there was something he was about to say, but self-censored, and changed to the phrase ‘one of my friends.’

Taken singly these events might not give much for second thought about a possible hidden sexual identity. However, taken together, and combined with the fact that he never married, as well as the family rumor that he was gay, the impression of a possible hidden homosexuality is certainly there.

Money

Not poor, just no money: Social and cultural capital

Gerber repeated throughout his autobiography a refrain that he remembered his mother saying often as he grew up, “we’re not poor, we just don’t have any money.” In an effort to detangle that apparent contradiction, we must turn to the theories of social and cultural capital put forth by Pierre Bourdieu in Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. Economically, the family was not well off, though they never lacked for basic necessities. Gerber laid blame on his father that the family struggled economically. He talked about his mother struggling, not having any money, and said, “She had no money because, as I will tell you later, my father, Julius Gerber, the head of the Socialist Party of the United States, but more of the world than of worldly goods.” [10]

By way of illustrating the financial situation of the family, Gerber described how his mother bought the house that he grew up in and its condition. According to Gerber, his mother ‘purloined’ his father’s gold watch and pawned it for $40, hoping that combined with her $10 savings it would be enough to purchase a newly built house. The builder accepted her money as a down payment, she made regular payments for a long time, and “She made them religiously. I don’t know how she got the money, but she managed. She forwent everything.” At the time she finally paid off the mortgage, Gerber remembered that it was still in the same unimproved state that she bought it in all those years ago, “During all that time, she had never improved it because she had no money. There was no paint on the walls. There was just brick outside. Walls, floors, no paint on the walls.” [11]

The middle-class values that Gerber’s father brought with him from Riga, Latvia, his connections in the socialist party, and the strong commitment to education of Gerber’s mother, combined to give the family a social and cultural capital that was vital in Gerber’s perception of the world around him. The conviction that he was never poor, just did not have money, at various times in his life—generally when one job ended and he had to find another—likely afforded him a confidence that helped him along the way. His class was not determined by his economic status, but rather by his education and family background.

While on the one hand Gerber grew up in a home with no paint on the walls, he also “lived like a millionaire’s child” [12] when he went to visit his sister after she moved to an estate in Westchester County. He remembered visiting her when she and her husband were still struggling to get a start in life, and lived in an attic apartment in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn. Once her husband had established himself as a lawyer, he purchased an estate, Wayside, in Mount Kisco, NY; it was an impressive, 139-acre estate with a 37-room house, stables, and greenhouse. Gerber would stay the weekend when he visited, and said that the beautiful estate “gave me ideas, which I still have—of glory—of the value of wealth and beauty.” [13]

Watching the rise of his sister and brother-in-law as a child, Gerber likely thought that with education and hard work, anything was possible. Seeing the stark contrast Gerber experienced between a house without paint on its walls and a beautiful estate, we can better understand the resentment he felt toward his father for not providing the family with more economically. His visits to his sister gave him an ideal, a concept of what the good life could encompass, expanding his horizons far beyond expectations that he might otherwise have had. Considering this contradiction in Gerber’s childhood, it seems fortunate for Gerber that as a young man he had a mentor who modeled an integration of socialist ideals, which Gerber blamed at least in part for the family’s economic conditions, with personal wealth.

Personal wealth

Gerber’s perception of the importance of money, created by growing up in an essentially liminal habitus[14] formed by feeling both a lack of money and a sense of being a millionaire’s child, helps to explicate the impressions that he created about his personal wealth. In two instances in his autobiography, Gerber presented a contradictory impression of his personal wealth—the impression of self-sufficiency at a young age and the impression of the bicoastal Hollywood lawyer.

When Gerber started to work for Morris Hillquit, he earned a salary of $12 a week, and he seems to claim a self-sufficiency for himself based upon that salary. Gerber described his salary thus:

I got enough money to pay for my law school, enough money to clothe myself, feed myself, pay for my books, my newspapers, and never again, never, was I dependent on anyone for my sustenance.[15]

Returning to the same theme a little later in the work, Gerber stated, “Again, going back to that munificent salary of twelve dollars a week—it doesn’t sound like much does it? But it was enough for me to become independent from that first day of my employment.”[16] Gerber’s language presents an image of a young man who was financially responsible for himself. It is only when we pause to consider what is missing from Gerber’s description that the impression is revealed as a misperception. Gerber mentions nothing about paying for a place to live, an expense that generally takes a substantial portion of a self-sufficient individual’s income. He in fact lived at home not only through his time in law school, but up until the time he moved to Washington, DC.[17]

The second instance of Gerber creating an impression regarding his personal wealth that implied he had more money than he actually did comes later in the work. He talked about having a house in Hollywood and an apartment in New York City. His descriptions convey an impression of status or prestige about each property.

At the end of the autobiography, Gerber revealed that the impression he had created was misleading. As he talked about a special souvenir from a trip to Mexico that was in his living room he said, “And let me tell you about that apartment. It’s a lovely apartment. I did not pick it. I did not buy it.”[18] The transcript shows an emphasis on these words with italic type; the effect of Gerber emphasizing those words within his story about travel is to make them stand out, rather than get lost as a minor digression in the flow of the narrative.

Success

Name dropping

Forging links and connections between himself and people who were well known granted Gerber a perception of his own success, as well as shaping the impressions he generated about his success. Gerber had an impressive list of people he could name-drop. He named important people that he came into contact with throughout his life, including political figures such as Morris Hillquit, Eleanor Roosevelt, and President Truman, war generals such as John Christmas, David Barr, and Joseph Holley, as well as entertainment figures such as Theodora (Teddy) Getty—wife of J. Paul Getty, Peggy Lee, Benny Goodman, and Eric Clapton.

Dropping names of well-known or high ranking individuals served as an external source of validation to Gerber about his success; it became one manner in which he was able to measure his self-worth. All of which makes it somewhat surprising that the most well-known person that he worked closest with for the longest period, his commanding general in Europe, Dwight Eisenhower, is never mentioned by name in Gerber’s discussions. He referred to “my General” or “the General” but never said his name.[19]

We can only speculate as to Gerber’s reticence in naming that particular name. One possibility is that the imprecise reference was a residual habit of security from working in the intelligence field during the war. Or, perhaps he had become so close to him during service that no name, only a title, was necessary. Another possibility is that while Gerber spoke of Eisenhower with great respect, he may have wanted to distance himself from Eisenhower for one reason or another. Perhaps he wanted the glory of working for the G-2 general who marched into enemy headquarters after the liberation of Paris, but did not want to invoke other historical events that might come to mind with Eisenhower’s name. Perhaps if that is so, given Gerber’s silence about the McCarthy hearings, it is because of Eisenhower’s initial reluctance to speak out against McCarthy.

Hollywood man[20]

As a lawyer practicing in Hollywood during the height of the McCarthy hearings, it is surprising that Gerber did not mention anything about the hearings, especially considering that as a man with a socialist background he would have been likely to have had the hearings touch his life in some fashion. Not one reference to McCarthy appears anywhere in the autobiography. Again, we are left to speculate: perhaps his desire for acceptance induced him to collaborate in a manner that he later regretted. Perhaps he knew people who were adversely affected by the hearings and preferred not to bring up those issues.

On the whole, his autobiography focuses on positive events of the 20^th-century. While he talked about the nastiness of Hitler and totalitarian communist regimes, it was with the advantage of an evil that had been beaten. He may have felt that the perniciousness of the McCarthy hearings—criminalizing people’s thoughts and ideas—had not been wiped away, even once McCarthy was finally contained.

Gerber perceived his associations in Hollywood as a mark of his success and achievement. He talked fondly of his experiences with Peggy Lee and Benny Goodman. He seemed proud to have had some part in arranging their joint tour and acting as sometimes lawyer to Peggy Lee, as if the hard work he put in paid off not only in making good money at the time, but also later as social capital.

Gerber’s career as a movie producer provides the reader with an interesting paradox of self-making. Initially our impression of a movie producer equates to a vision of success; upon realizing that Gerber produced a few bad, or at best mediocre, movies, that impression changes to one of failure. Yet, in the strange fashion of Hollywood, it seems that it was more important that he could claim the status of producer than the fact that the production work he did was of mediocre quality.

Gerber admitted that “like the pictures, I, too, was mired in mediocrity.” The saving grace, it seems, was that the movies gave “me interesting experiences—enabled me to travel….”[21] Gerber provided a realistic assessment of the kind of movies he produced and simultaneously reminded the reader that it was not the quality of the movies that was important, but that he could claim such an experience. Gerber seemed to view it less as a failure than as an interesting interlude to his legal career; it was an experience that made him a more well-rounded person. It would seem that his career as a producer ended at a perfect time: he had added to his social capital without losing that which he had.

Conclusion

The ambiguity of Gerber’s identity comes across very clearly in his autobiography. While the reader learns much about Gerber’s life, the autobiography raises far more questions than it answers. Through the work, his identity reveals itself as wrought with contradictions. The tensions between perception and reality that appear around issues of money and success reflect his perceptions about who he was.

In some places he appears the confident, successful man, in others he appears insecure, disappointed at having fallen short of his expectations in some manner. The implications of the text directly contradict the actual statements of the text; Gerber seems to employ an artful manipulation of perceptions through his choice of language. We are left to wonder what is really real: the essence of his story, or the words that tell that story. Our desire for an answer that proves reality to be one or the other may blind us to the fact that the answer may very well be “both.”