Marshall McLuhan. Judith Fitzgerald

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      McLuhan can see lovely splashes of stars, sparkling jewels so close and bright, clear nights in the fragrant garden on Gertrude; yes, he can see the splendid stars, he can almost scoop up handfuls of them; and, yes, one day – whether he becomes an engineer, doctor, or Olympic rower – he will see the name of Marshall McLuhan glittering magnificently among them, no doubt because he’s finally figured out what it is he wants to do.

      He enters the University of Manitoba fully convinced his interest in structure and design will be put to best use studying engineering, but after spending that summer working among a crew of surveyors in the wilds of mosquito-friendly Manitoba, McLuhan anguishes over his future before switching to English and philosophy, a decision that proves to be one of the best he makes.

      Nonetheless, the young scholar’s tormented by feelings of inadequacy and his fear that, although he now knows what he wants to study, he’s still no closer to determining how he’ll realize his dream of becoming a Great Man once his studying days are done.

      A Christian who reads the Bible daily, McLuhan had attended Winnipeg’s Nassau Baptist Church (at his mother’s insistence), even though his father was Presbyterian; as he matured, McLuhan opted to attend any Church but the dull and stuffy Baptist one. One breezy evening in April 1930, sitting on the throne and pondering what he’d just learned in Sunday school that day, it comes to him:

      He’ll write a Great Book that will prove all life – mental, material, spiritual, physical – is governed by laws, laws that no one else has even noticed, laws that no else has even considered discussing between the covers of a book. His book will be philosophically grounded in this world; it will not be a religious book; but, its central idea, issuing from Christ’s precepts and McLuhan’s understanding of the primary importance of Pentecost in view of the laws he’s perceived, will provide comfort and enlightenment. The laws are infallible – as precise as mathematics, as ubiquitous as weather – and, if a person correctly grasps them in all their glory, a person goes a long way.

      Pentecost is the divine mystery, the all-encompassing power or energy responsible for the miracle of creation.

      Thus, because the world exists – living beings see, feel, hear, taste, touch, smell, and know it – the human race owes allegiance to it (or, more accurately, to its Creator and the fruits of His labour). In believing in Pentecost as the divine mystery, McLuhan pledges his own allegiance to the philosophy of Saint Thomas Aquinas (1226–1274), the theologian canonized as the patron saint of students and universities in 1323 as well as one of the greatest and most influential religious thinkers (who had, incidentally, taken a vow of chastity and renounced the trappings of this world).

      Saint Thomas wrote numerous lucid and erudite volumes (including the Summa Theologica), and he also preached with great eloquence and inspiring conviction concerning his certainty God exists and His proof is everywhere (in everything) in this world in which we live. Throughout his life McLuhan will maintain close ties with the so-called Thomist School. His idea of the “sensuously orchestrated” individual of the future corresponds with doctrines aligning God with universal laws and forces; but, as a self-described Thomist, his philosophical position maintains existence is the supreme perfection – being in God and creation – while human knowledge is acquired through sense experience which leads to reflective activity. He often quips, “Should Old Aquinas be forgot,” when he’s queried about his faith, thus demonstrating his willingness to show his true Thomistic colours.

      The colourful McLuhan comes to believe that “all the university taught you to do was bullshit.” Still, he’s anxious to discuss his revealing insights and fresh ideas with fellow student and kindred spirit, Tom Easterbrook. Tom and Marsh, the best of buddies, argue incessantly, sparring over virtually everything, some nights roaming the streets well into the wee hours, when the rising sun reminds them a little shut-eye might not be such a bad idea.

      It is during these heady months the young thinker decides he needs to address both his weight and love life (or, more precisely, his skinniness and love lack). McLuhan stands six-foot-one-and-a-quarter inches or 1.86 metres tall and tips the scales at a little under 140 pounds or 63.5 kilograms. He takes up scrumming on rugby fields, skirmishing in makeshift hockey rinks, distance swimming at the YMCA and, even though some of his classmates consider the debate-loving brainiac a “moron,” he thoroughly enjoys dancing at university affairs and socials.

      Apparently, the striking young man in possession of a certain wayward charm cuts quite the elegant figure on the dance floor, especially when the tuneful tenor stylings of Vaudevillian Harry Lauder float dreamily through the highly charged air.

      Just after jotting a few self-defining thoughts in his journal concerning the way in which his bookishness and elevated sexual ideals all but preclude the possibility that he, Marshall McLuhan, will be foolish enough to fall in love before he turns thirty and is better equipped to select a suitable wife for someone such as himself – a gentle, wholesome, and sympathetic woman who will balance, tame, and make him whole – McLuhan does, in fact, fall madly, crazily, passionately in love. He tumbles head-over-heartstrings for Marjorie Norris, a lissom medical student possessed of incomparable beauty, sterling character, and a superior intellect (not to mention her generally soothing and sunny disposition).

      Drats! She already has a boyfriend, a steady-as-Freddie beau? What’s that you say? His name is Jimmy Munroe? Rats, drats, and double-drats! I beg your pardon? Really? No! Well, now, what’s the latest item of interest making the rounds of the university grapevine? A rumour? Could it be true?

      YES! It’s true! Marjorie ditched the dasher! No! She says she wouldn’t mind a date with young Marshall! She’d simply be delighted, in fact. Delighted! She’d simply be delighted… Who’d a-thunk it? Marjorie Norris? Ha! There is a God!

      The full moon floats just above the horizon, luminous and huge, one fine evening in April on the banks of the Assiniboine. She sits prettily on a tree stump. He stands contentedly beside her. All is right with the world.

      “Have you ever seen such a moon, bathed in the most fragile strands of clouds, just whispered hints of mistiness, almost a shimmering halo? It’s beautiful, Marjorie, isn’t it?”

      “It is when you describe it, Marshall.”

      “If I kissed you, do you think you’d see the afterimage of the moon when you closed your eyes?”

      “I’m not sure… why? Do you think you would like to experiment?”

      “Well… If you didn’t think I was being too forward.”

      “Oh, Marshall, I wouldn’t think that. This would be an experiment, after all, wouldn’t it?”

      “Well… Yes, it would; it is, too. It’s exactly that… An experiment! You see, Mademoiselle, I’ve СКАЧАТЬ