THE SOURCES FOR THIS BOOK INCLUDE MANY CONVERSATIONS with Eqbal Ahmad over forty years, starting with the time we spent together from 1958 to 1964 at Princeton University, in New York City, and in North Africa, where we both conducted research for our doctorates. Strangely but wonderfully, I kept our written correspondence from this period, including carbon copies of the letters I sent him. They supply not only chronology but also anecdotes of events in our lives.
I again became very close to him during 1970 to 1972 as a result of his being indicted in the Harrisburg 7 case. As the initial treasurer of the Harrisburg Defense Committee in New York City, I was privy to some of the decisions made by the defendants and got to know all of them except Phil Berrigan, who was imprisoned. I also paid legal expenses for the lawyers on the case and in this way got to know Leonard Boudin and Ramsey Clark. I used to love going down to Leonard’s office on East Forty-second Street in Manhattan and shooting the breeze with this very interesting man. I even did research for him and was impressed with his profound knowledge of where I would find the legal cases he was looking for. He was filled with anecdotes and wonderful stories about a storybook life. Ramsey and his wife, Georgia, also became friends, and I visited their Greenwich Village apartment often while the committee was in New York City.
My personal archive, especially hand-written minutes of strategy meetings with the defendants and notes on my private meetings with Eqbal, provides an excellent record of events that transpired. It was the first time in my life that I worked with and socialized with radical priests and nuns. I have cherished that fantastic experience throughout my life. I remember vividly the bigger-than-life Irish Jesuit priest Joe O’Rourke, the quiet, but profound Jim Forest, the energetic and very smart John Akagi, the wonderful nuns in blue jeans Judy Peluso and Lillian Shirley, the personable Kathy Jones, the intense Tom Davidson, and many others.
In the 1980s, Eqbal and I were neighbors for parts of each year on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. We saw each other often, organized together, wrote articles about North Africa together, and had great fun. I didn’t keep many written records of those years, but I have vivid memories of conversations, meetings, visitors who poured through our lives, and especially the evenings spent over long dinners with scintillating people and fine food. We stayed in touch by letter and then email when we traveled abroad, remained close friends, and shared a great deal.
Through him I visited India and Pakistan in 1980 and returned to Pakistan in 2004, a few years after he died. I met his wonderful friends and relatives there and was astounded by the hospitality I received simply because I was Eqbal’s good friend. I was overwhelmed by their friendship and cherish the memories of being with them. They told me much about Eqbal that is not written anywhere, providing me with oral sources that are precious. Writing this book was a wonderful experience because it brought back extraordinary memories of exceptional times.