By CHARLES M. GUTHRIE
Of the editorial page staff
Published by the StarTribune
May 23, 1959
May 23, 1959
IN THIS country we operate on the premise that organization insures efficiency. In moderation, it does. But when organization becomes an end in itself, efficiency suffers, and innumerable hours are lost that could be spent more profitably in loafing or fertilizing the lawn.
Over-organization is one of the great time wasters, the great banes, besetting us today. I lack the courage to single out any groups I think we'd be better off without, but duplications are obvious. We are hip-deep in luncheon clubs, lodges, civic, political, social and cultural groups and community welfare enterprises. Besides which, the president is always compounding the agony by appointing committees to look into raising funds for mosquito spraying or the feasibility of a 9 o'clock curfew.
Anyone who wants to rally to a cause or join a club can do so almost overnight. In fact, if he hasn't learned to say "no" he'll be engulfed in spite of himself and spend all his evenings at meetings.
MY WIFE and I and some other folks have gathered once a month for years to eat and play cards. Just why we've never organized into the Supper and Shuffle club, drawn up a constitution and by-laws and branched out into some humanitarian endeavor already occupying 50 other groups is a mystery. But if anyone suggests such a step I'll throw in my hand.
I recently presided over the obsequies of a church group which for years had writhed in the death throes. The fact that it foundered under my hand humbled me slightly. Yet all members, I think, experienced relief, as when death releases some long ill and helpless relative.
It was simply one church organization too many. It folded because nobody was willing to be an officer for next year. Most members had so served in times past and realized the futility of it all.
ONE INJUSTICE inherent in our craze for organization is that it embroils a lot of people whose only sin is that they make speeches or play the piccolo or show films of Alaska. They are constantly entreated by program chairmen to do their stuff at the club dinner next month.
Such a pitch often is hard to refuse. Pick out 10 people at random on the street and the chances are that at least one is a program chairman. And he may be the fellow who loaned you a five spot in your time of need last week, or your wife's uncle's business partner who got you the job at the pickle works. All you can do is consent to make the speech, show the film or play a piccolo solo.
And, sure enough, in the audience will be another program chairman who has simply loved your performance, and how about appearing before the South Side Spaghetti and Literary Society June 19?
The only way to get rid off this hook is to be so bad that no program chairman of sound mind could bear to inflict such suffering on his fellows. I know. I made a speech once.
I'M NOT much of a joiner, and think it little loss either to me or any organization. The sort of club I'd enjoy belonging to apparently doesn't exist. It would be one that had no programs, no serious discussions, no missions and no direction. It would meet once a month--during the noon hour so as not to befoul the evening--and whether you attended or not wouldn't matter. Eating would be the main purpose. Conversation, if any, would be spontaneous and on any subject, preferably trivial, and anyone wanting to make a speech would be thrown out.
I could go on but must stop. I'm late for a committee meeting.
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