means dead in the 1950s. Because of the Civil War and the Franco regime, Spain was viewed as an exceptional country, and the Spanish as rather exceptional people, given to violent conflict and fits of passion. Even the government had adopted the tourist slogan that "Spain is different," though its intention was not the same. My concern was to determine whether the Spanish really were "different" or rather normal people whose life had simply been marked by severe conflicts. After my first two months in Madrid I came to the conclusion that the Spanish were indeed basically normal people, not a collection of fanatics and extremists, though like all national groups they exhibited certain cultural idiosyncrasies.
I also devoted considerable time to travel that year, crisscrossing much of the country by bus, train, and plane, with special attention to several parts of the north and to Andalusia, spending more time in the south than I ever would again. In the process I met and dealt with people from every social background and all parts of the political spectrum, with the sole exception of the Communist Party. My own role was strictly that of researcher and observer. The only time that I was tempted to become involved politically was when I learned of the plight of the blind CNT leader Félix Carrasquer, once more in jail, since international publicity might improve the chances for his release. He was indeed released early in 1959, without further prompting from the outside, and I was able to visit Carrasquer within days of his regaining liberty.
Of all political sectors, the one that most impressed me on a personal level was the Pamplonese Carlists, with whom I made contact in December 1958. What most struck me about the Carlists was their spontaneity, forthrightness, and lack of affectation. Their authenticity was impressive, and initiated what would become a long-term friendship with a number of them.
The doctoral thesis on the Falange was largely written during the summer of 1959 and defended at Columbia the following spring. My first teaching took place at Columbia during 1959-60 and at Hunter College (City University of New York), after which I was offered a regular position at the beginning level at the University of Minnesota in 1960. I submitted the manuscript on the Falange to the Stanford University Press and obtained a quick acceptance, the book appearing in October 1961. A year or so later the new émigré press Ruedo Ibérico, founded by José Martínez in Paris, asked for the rights to editions in Spanish and French, which then came out in France in 1964-65.
The success of the book, generally well received on every hand, was gratifying and even surprising. It was also related to the fact that contemporary Spanish history was then a completely unworked field. Virtually all the reviews were favorable, some of them extremely so. The review that appeared in the Revista de Estudios Políticos was inevitably negative, standing as the more or less official response of the regime, but I understood that this would have to be the case, and in fact had the response in such an organ been favorable, it would probably have indicated that there was something seriously wrong with the book.
The original study of the Falange was no more than a doctoral thesis, based in part on oral history, an immature work some passages of which are a bit embarrassing to read in retrospect. It was in fact a training device for a fledgling historian who still had a great deal to learn, both about researching and writing history in general, and about contemporary Spanish history in particular. Although the findings about the Falange as an attempt to impose fascism in Spain were all negative, the book made some allowance for the charismatic qualities and intentions of José Antonio Primo de Rivera and some of the original Falangists — more so than would have been the case at a later stage in my career as a historian. There was an element of