The Sullivanians:Through a Blue Window ((c) 2019 shelley feinerman's Podcast
CULT! This podcast chronicles the rise and fall of the Sullivanian Institute and its members. The psycho-sexual therapy] and institute existed on Manhattan's Upper West Side from the 1970s through the 1990s. Directed to abandon family and friends, as we all were, after five years my life was inextricably altered. The podcast begins with my childhood, then goes on to my time in the Sullivanians, and 20 years later, its self-destruction when it was characterized as a cult. It is entitled Through a Blue Window: The Sullivanians and is dedicated to mother, Ruth.
The Sullivanians:Through a Blue Window ((c) 2019 shelley feinerman's Podcast
Between the Walls and Echoes of the past; the Sullivanian collective conscience continues
-After two and a half years of shifting roommates and apartments, I finally found an apartment and a tight-knit group of women and the rewarding discovery of profound connections hitherto absent from my life This episode continues to explore the daunting task of navigating the tightrope of school, intense Sullivanian therapy, and the interpersonal dynamics of the group mixed with family estrangement, and memories that continue to haunt.
Take a seat at the latest Sullivanan house meeting where personalities clash over perceived acceptability, the human need to belong. and the moral debate stirred by unconventional lifestyle choices.
The roommates:
Lanni, whom I met on Thanksgiving Day, my entry into the group
Annie, an ardent Sullianian with a bizarre history even by group standards
Serena, beautiful and unconventional pushes the envelope on what is acceptable Sullivanian behavior
Then, sparked by an unexpected message from her Aunt Hannah a haunting memory resurfaces.
I am grateful to all who have listened to my podcast and find this next episode of interest.
The complete documentary Through a BlueWindow can be seen on my youtube channel shellfein1. I would love to hear your thoughts.
Thank you
Taking Freddie's suggestion to heart about not living with Aggie, I announced I was moving out before I had a place to go. New apartments formed at the end of the summer and since it was mid-October, the response to all my telephone queries was a disheartening sorry, nothing. Freddie and I had been dating since we'd met on Thanksgiving Day almost a year ago and I remembered her apartment had a junk-filled maids room. I decided to ask, no, beg them to let me move in, much as Aggie had done when her apartment broke up. Nothing was simple or easy to arrange in the group, but after a week of dates with each of the roommates and, of course, consultations with all the various therapists, it came to pass. I was voted in. Annie, who would ironically become my closest friend, an eventual nemesis, was the one dissent. Aggie's worst nightmare was realized. She was eventually voted out of the apartment I'd left behind and since no one would take her in, she had to move into the Paris, the transient hotel on West 95th Street that would in later years be converted into luxury condominiums. Except for by time at school, all other human interaction therapy, friends, dating, parties and the groups within the group, like art and writing and eventually Marxist classes were with other Syllevanians, and my roommates were my nuclear family. Lainey's entry into the group had been through her oldest sister, maggie, who was already in the group. She convinced their parents to allow Lainey to live at the institute as the after-school babysitter for Seth's two children when Lainey turned 17, she severed contact with her mother and stepfather. This apartment would be my home for almost three years and my roommate's my closest friends.
Speaker 1:Leah Elena Lang was the oldest, a native Californian. She came to New York to attend NYU where she met John Morales, a Syllevanian. Six years later, maria, though a committed Syllevanian, kept herself at a safe distance from the group activities and had few close friends. An adjunct professor of anthropology at Pace University, she was working on her dissertation. In a year she would travel to Sierra Leone to complete her fieldwork. At first I was intimidated by her brisk manner, but she was interested in my art, asking insightful questions and at times posing for me. In turn, I admired her professional ambition and drive, and we developed a warm, loving relationship.
Speaker 1:Annie Steinberg was a year older than Lainey, but with her petite frame and features she was often mistaken as younger. She had reservations about me as a roommate that would resurface a few years later we eventually became close. She was feisty and smart, working towards her BA in sociology at Hunter College, but there were those in the group who found her rigid. Perhaps it was Annie's history which was bizarre even by group standards. Her mother, janet Steinberg, a hawk nosed and unattractive woman with a frizzed-out perm, had been Seth Lewin's patient since the early 1960s. The group didn't exist but Seth was didactic as ever and directed Janet to bring her pre-adolescent daughter to see psychotherapist Ron Elman, a founding member of the Institute. She would often recount her years of therapy while sitting on Uncle Ron's lap with contempt. Samarali sipped off to boarding school at 13.
Speaker 1:Annie left New York for South America on a student exchange program upon graduation. When she returned to the states in early 1973, her mother was living and teaching in Boston and the training program was in its infancy. Annie was drawn to the training program, believing it to be a radical departure from the therapy she had experienced growing up and began seeing Beverly Morgan. She responded to a sign in Beverly's outer office roommate wanted and became the third member of Lainey's apartment. The following year Annie's mother returned to New York City, moved into a group apartment and began showing up at weekend parties. It was then that Annie donned a nearly impenetrable armor that some unfamiliar with her history misinterpreted.
Speaker 1:Rounding off the apartment was Serena Balamenti, beautiful with a sensuous dancer's body, breasts like buds and a long curved neck. This was the same Serena I came to realize that Liz had quoted as her inspiration to be an exotic dancer. Serena was also the unlicensed hairstylist for the group. Though urged by her therapist and now mine to enroll in beauty school, serena quit after the first week. No longer dancing, she supported herself as an artist model at Parsons School of Design.
Speaker 1:Serena was an anomaly in the group in other ways besides the dancing. For the most part she only dated men from outside the group, pretty boys with smooth, hairless bodies, men she'd see on the street or in a store and approach. She'd bring the men to the apartment and they'd immediately disappear between her locked bedroom door, the only room with its own bathroom, which she decorated with mirrors, candles and incense. Sometimes she'd disappear for hours on end, only reappearing for food her own food that she'd stored separately on her refrigerator or cupboard shelf. Annie wanted Serena to stop bringing these men into the apartment, and it was this very topic that had been occupying our current house meeting.
Speaker 1:We'd been gathered around the kitchen table talking for almost an hour and not getting anywhere. You could be dead in there for all I know, annie said, repeating herself Don't you think you're overacting a bit? Maria Elena asked I'm concerned about all of our welfare. Annie was biting her nails as she talked. You know what Annie Serena said I'm sick of this shit. I've been here from the beginning, long before Lainey dragged you in here like some drowned puppy.
Speaker 1:Remember I was the one who found this apartment. It used to be fun living here, but suddenly it seems like there are too many rules. Everyone wanted me to stop dancing, so I did, but I don't like you telling me who I can date. And what about that? Annie was pointing to Serena's bag of food with the do not touch sign taped to the outside. I buy my food at the health food store, not the supermarket, and it's expensive so I keep it separate. Serena explained Nothing sinister, annie, while Annie was mollified about the food, she was not as sanguine about the men Serena brought into the apartment. Didn't you bring home one of the clerks from Riverside Hardware last night, annie asked.
Speaker 1:Turning to Serena Is this going to be a rule, annie? Are you telling me I can't date men outside the group, or is it because he works in a hardware store? That bothers you? Serena shot back, coiled like a cobra. I didn't want to say this", annie said, but my therapist thinks your marginal behavior is endangering this apartment and the group, and I think she's right.
Speaker 1:Invoking her therapist had ratcheted up the tension in the room. This is a group apartment and you have a please knock sign on your door. Annie added Some people to knock on your door when it's closed, don't you? Maria added, trying to be the voice of reason. Serena is making sure her privacy is protected. I love her room, I added, especially the bathroom, which, I might add, she lets all of us use. Annie, you're being contemptuous, I agree.
Speaker 1:Lainey said finally joining the conversation. This is a parataxic rage, because your mother was at the party last night, can't you see that? For a moment it looked as if Annie might cry. So I leaned over and took her hand. Come on, annie. Remember last week, you and Robert Mally with a glass of wine and candlelight in Serena's tub. You do have to admit, the bathroom's great. Annie finally cracked a smile. Okay, listen, I interjected. I have an idea, serena. Maybe you can introduce us to your dates or come out once in a while when you've got someone over, so we know everything is okay. We can talk all about this in therapy and again at next Friday's house meeting. Okay, because I really need to talk about something else. Everybody agreed, even Annie, and then I became the center of attention.
Speaker 1:Freddie is quitting the training program. I announced she's going to go get her degree and I've been referred to Pagene McDermott and I've heard crazy things about her that she's a real scatterbrain. I know Pagene. Serena said she likes to have a good time, but you only see her at parties. She seemed more relaxed now. I'm sure she's different as a therapist, but there was this one story I did hear about Pagene coming rushing out of her office holding her dog Muffin, screaming. Muffin swallowed my birth control pills.
Speaker 1:What do you think, lainey? You've been awfully quiet. I think you'll get over it. I'm not sure it matters who you're in therapy with. What kind of thing is that to say? I don't think you'd be saying that if Debbie was stopping.
Speaker 1:I snapped. I'm sorry. It's just that I have something important to talk about too, and I've been waiting patiently to tell everyone. Listen. I'm sorry for waiting until the last minute, but I'm moving into Nicole's apartment over the weekend. You're moving out, lainey.
Speaker 1:Why didn't you tell me, I asked? My therapist said that this was the best way to wait, especially since I didn't know whether I would be accepted or not. You didn't trust me enough to tell me it wasn't a matter of trust. I couldn't tell you or anybody else. It wouldn't have been fair. Besides, I didn't want to alienate you all. If I wasn't accepted, I wouldn't have had anywhere to go. You can understand that, especially after what happened with Aggie. It wasn't personal. Like Annie, lainey had invoked her therapist's approval, and that put an end to the conversation. Though younger by ten years, lainey had watched over me since Thanksgiving Day and my first encounter with the group.
Speaker 1:I couldn't get over feeling betrayed, and eventually Lainey and I stopped dating. The only upside for me was that I moved into her larger room Two months later, just as I was getting used to Beguine, she left the trainee program too. Ironically, my new therapist was Debbie Wilson, lainey's therapist. Debbie was to be my third therapist and I was angry. It felt like I was just another worker. Bee for Seth's master plan of a vanguard party, a phrase that I was beginning to hear more and more.
Speaker 1:A few months later, a letter was delivered to my old apartment with my Aunt Hannah's return address. Jessica Norman, one of the women living there now, called to tell me "'My darling Cora'. The letter began "'the cancer returned and your mother is very sick and wants to see you. It added with we all love and miss you faithfully. Yours Aunt Hannah Debbie, who I had been seeing for not very long, told me to ignore the letter, and so I did. But then, a week later, the most amazing coincidence occurred I'd gotten a waitress's job at St Quatella, a local restaurant around the corner from my first apartment where the letter had been delivered.
Speaker 1:I knew that Jessica or any one of her roommates would have notified me if another letter had been delivered, but the logic played no part in my decision to do an about face and walk right into the building, like I still live there. Miguel the doorman was busy with the supermarket delivery. He smiled with recognition and tipped his gray hat. I waited for the elevator, still interminably slow, and then, once inside, I watched the white light tick off the floors before stopping at nine. And when the elevator doors parted, there was the improbable sight of my Aunt Hannah in the midst of a heated argument with a stone-faced Jessica Norman.
Speaker 1:And just in time for me to hear my aunt say I'm sure you're a very nice young lady, but I'm not leaving. My God, I said, reeling back in the tiny vestibule, as though dancing a two-step poker. How are you here in this building? I asked in a sudden panic. Morris knows someone at the telephone company and they found your address. My dearest, I can't believe it's you.
Speaker 1:I was just talking to this very nice young lady who was explaining to me that you don't live here anymore and I was trying to convince her to call you, because surely you'd want to know I was here. Then she gripped my hand like a spring trap. Didn't you get the letter we sent you? Your mother is in the hospital. She's very sick and I know you'd want to see her. My hand explained why don't you come with me right now as I go of my hand, I said, as I tried to twist away, but she held tight with surprising force and I was hopelessly trapped. Jessica Norman, a tall, sturdy woman who towered over us both, reached into the millet and pulled me out and into the apartment. Jessica swiftly closed the door telling my aunt to leave, as she stood there sputtering my name.
Speaker 1:We'd found out about my mother's cancer sometime after my first wedding anniversary. She called to tell me that Dr Goldman, her gynecologist, had felt something peculiar during her routine examination. It's probably nothing, she added, but to be on the safe side, I have an appointment with an internist. The recovery room was freezing and the glaring fluorescent lights added a peculiar lavender tinge to my mother's already ghostly pallor. The operation lasted four hours, much longer than expected, but when it was over, sheila and I were allowed into the recovery room for a few minutes.
Speaker 1:We stood on either side of her bed in the frigid and brightly lit room, shivering beneath the thin cotton gowns we'd been given to wear. The hem of my mother's green hospital gown was sprinkled with dry blood and her legs were bound in tight surgical stockings. Noticing the crumpled sheet at the end of the bed, I pulled it to her shoulders, tucking the sides tightly around her body. Sheila lowered the metal guardrail and leaned over to whisper we're here, mommy, it's all over. And kissed her cheek through the surgical mask, at which point my mother's eyelids fluttered open. Girls, she breathed before drifting back to sleep. A nurse built like a block of chipped granite patted over and in an Irish brogue muffled by her mask-head. Time to go, girls.
Speaker 1:After we'd stripped off the sterile garments, sheila took my hand something she hadn't seen since we'd last seen our father and we found Greg and Morris in conversation with the surgeon I was just explaining to your husband. Dr Draper said, when we approached, that we had to remove part of your mother's small intestines because the tumor was larger than expected. But she did fine and I think we got it all. Now the plan going forward should be to not tell your mother anything. I see no reason to worry her about this. He was a short man who was nervously tugging at his earlobe as he presented this crazy idea, like he was a high school football coach planning a squirmus. What don't tell her? It was cancerous. How are you going to explain the operation that you've removed part of her intestines? I said, my voice rising. Sheila, I think mommy would want to know. All this doesn't make sense otherwise.
Speaker 1:That's when Greg asked about chemotherapy, citing his grandmother who had needed chemo treatment after they removed her tumor. I don't know what was wrong with your grandmother, but chemo is not cold for here, dr Draper said, a lot of women in your mother's situation can handle knowing the truth and get quite distraught and depressed. I see no reason for your mother to worry unnecessarily. After she's discharged, make sure she comes to see me for follow up examinations every six months and she must stop smoking and cut back on the drinking. In those days cancer was spoken about in hushed tones as of saying the word out loud was the curse of death. No, and no pink ribbons or walk-a-thons or patients bill of rights, just some stupid ass doctor telling you that your mother might have a nervous breakdown if she ever found out. So we kept it a secret, agreeing to shoulder the responsibility to make sure she didn't smoke and went for regular checkups, but without chemotherapy or knowing the truth my mother was doomed, went for regular checkups. Dr Draper said a lot of women in your mother's situation can handle knowing the truth and