December 28, 1931--Ann Arbor, Michigan

Yesterday I spent at the University seeking for that knowledge that would give me peace. Met Dr. Graham, Dr. Dearborn, English, Pullen, and others and am once more convinced that it is the same old story of dry dusty laboratories, much theory and little practice, not a soul among them with the exception of Dearborn who had a spark of imagination or love for what he is doing. He upon closer acquaintanceship might develop into a real friend. The others were so bound up in their own petty affairs that they hardly had time to talk or vist and far too much upon their dignity to ever smile or get enthusiastic. These men have lived too much indoors and not enough in the field to develop the lovable part of their natures. How few are the men who love the game for its own sake. As Graham said at lunch, "A man might become interested in most any subject which he took the time to investigate." In other words that is how he happened to drift into Zoology, just by chance. That is so true of many of them they might as well have gone into chemistry or engineering.

What did I find? I found that a university position is not for me. The four universities that I have visited, I believe are typical of what a man might find most anywhere in the states. I cannot see how I could possibly be happy in such an atmosphere. The labs are dry and uninteresting, research courses are the same and the men who run them more so. Where are the woodsmen who should be in charge of such work, they are in the woods and it is there that I must go for my future training what there will be of it. No more will I haunt the labs and lecture rooms, what further information I get will be dug out in the field or by independent reading.

There is this much I have found, that when it comes to teaching and research, Ely will give me as much and more than I could ever hope to get down here. Research does not mean much to me and I know that once I get up there again there will be little of it if any. The only research I will do is research into the thrills and joys a man may find by a life in the wilds. Mine is emotional research not scientific. I get far more enjoyment out of writing an article for one of the sportsmens magazines than ever working out some scientific treatise. Let those with little imagination do that sort of thing. The other is for me.

I can do far more good developing the right sentimental interest in the out of doors. It means more to me that certain souls may find comfort in the words I write and that they should be widely read by sympathetic lovers of the out of doors than tucked away in some dry scientific laboratory where only specialists may find them after wiping off their dust. It seems to me that such men as Ozark Ripley, Bob Becker, Robt. Lincoln, Don Hough, Ben East and others exert a far greater interest than ever Dr. Graham could hope to exert. They are the men who are influencing public opinion and they are the men who are really building up the framework of our conservation work. And don't forget that what you have set out to do is to develop to some extent the love and appreciation of the out of doors that Burroughs and Thoreau began. That is what means much to you and not the other. At this late stage in the game you can never excape it and do not want to escape it.

And more my job must be a job that takes me out of doors and gives me a chance to not only exercise my mind but my body as well. Graham tells of playing water polo for exercise. That would pall upon me. I want the struggle of ranging over miles of wilderness, pitching my camp at night underneath the spruces, wilderness living, developing a natural tan and the hard rugged appearance of the woodsman. I get tired of seeing lovers of the wilderness in white collars and soft white hands. Somehow they do not belong. When they talk of the wilds, I cannot help but distrust them. They are not of the fraternity and no matter how much theoretical information they have the cannot touch the true chord. It is impossible and if they only knew it they would sever if they loved the work enough all laboratory connections and fly to the field, nature's laboratory. I admit the necessity of laboratories, they must cooperate with the field but that end of it is not for me. I might take Dearborn's job someday but I can picture myself right now, miserable and discontented, chafing at the leash, wishing and longing for the wilds I have always loved. No the more I think of it the more I see the wisdom of going back up north and working out my salvation. Teaching there at least is far more interesting than down here. I have no responsibilities, have time for writing and inspiration for writing. There I mean something, there I am part of the country....

"Be true to yourself," the old bards say, "Be true to the best that is in you, the highest and the noblest." Be true, be true, goes the old refrain down the ages. Put your heart into your work and do your best. Create and express the best that is in you. Never let down. There is no compromise and never will be. To compromise is to admit defeat. That I will never do. So far I have only experimented, sought the reality of the life I have dreamed about and pictured and now I know that it is an illusion and that I shall never be happy anywhere away from the country I love....If I am to be true to the best that is in me, my place is in the north working out my own salvation.