Free Butterfly in the Typewriter by Cory MacLauchlin Page B

could have a future in writing. Certainly this placed balm on any remaining wounds from his experience with The Neon Bible .
    Foote encouraged Toole to pursue a life in literature. Over the span of several semesters, both teacher and student left an indelible impression on each other. Toole offered Foote hope amid his growing fatigue with undergraduates. And Foote, seeing great potential in his young protégé, upheld Toole’s talents as that of a professional, not just a novice. It must have been a sad day when Toole found out Foote was leaving Tulane. In the fall semester of 1956, Foote moved to California for a higher salary. Toole sent him a Christmas card, and on February 26, 1957, Foote replied. The nature of their relationship is reflected in this single letter:
    Dear Ken:
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    Your xmas card came at a time when the muddy bottom of Morro Bay looked more inviting than the nearest bar to A. Foote—and bars have always had an attraction to him. In other words, the kind things you wrote helped lift me out of a depression that threatened my insanity. Believe me, I am grateful.
    Foote makes light of his mood, but he conveys his sincere appreciation. Whatever Toole wrote helped him weather his unhappiness. In California Foote found himself longing to be back at Tulane, longing for students like Toole. He describes his current students in a manner that Toole must have found most entertaining:
    We turn out technicians here—the men who are educated enough to be able to turn the little wheel when the gauge shows red: “Giver a lil more naptha, Charlie, the mixtures gittin bad.” Unfortunately these men receive the M.S. degree—equivalent to the B.A. I suppose—and go out into the world armed with the conviction they are “engineers.”

    Toole developed a similar style of banter as written by Foote—a blend of imitation and disdain. Years later, Toole would write similar lines about his own students in Puerto Rico. And the sarcasm pointed at engineers may echo their discussions about Toole’s career path. God forbid Toole could have been the one turning that little wheel when the gauge turned red.
    Foote goes on to reaffirm his dedication to teaching, despite its challenges. He also reiterates his vested interest in Toole’s future, clearly regretting his decision to leave Tulane:
    I would enjoy a letter from you. I’d like to know how Tulane goes, and how your plans are shaping up for the teaching profession. I’d still recommend that profession, but I’d add a little counsel and guidance: don’t be fooled into thinking that higher salaries mean more interesting students....
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    My best to your mother, and please write.
    This letter, the only one from Foote in the Toole Papers, offers a suggestive glimpse into the relationship between teacher and student. Their bond, however brief it might have been, likely had a resounding influence on Toole. Foote was one of his few male mentors. He pointed to a track, rather than a paycheck, that suited Toole’s talents. He encouraged Toole to turn away from engineering and pursue a degree in English.
    By the end of his freshman year, and with his mother’s blessing, Toole changed his major. Just as Ignatius in Confederacy drafted his invective against the modern age in his Big Chief Tablet and scribbled on the front, “MOTHER DO NOT READ,” Toole claimed a place in his studies where his parents would not tread: his father had an interest in mathematics and engineering, and while his mother tried to follow his studies in literature, she later mused, “In grade school, I was my son’s tutor. In college, he became my tutor.” Her son would bring home his reading lists from classes, and she tried to keep up with them. It soon became clear he was blazing a trail of his own choosing. After all, if he already felt duty-bound to eventually care for his parents, he would at least do it working in a