I came upon Mr. Cousins by chance, really. It was that kind of inevitable event that one appreciates only in the fullness of time.
I was a freelancing multimedia-type person back in the early '80s — a rare sort back then. In 1983, I had some work with the Community Services department of St. Johns Hospital in Santa Monica, CA. They had booked Mr. Cousins to speak before a mixed audience at the hospital, and having heard vaguely about his 'positive thinking' shtick, I thought it might make an interesting recording for the local public radio station, KCRW-FM. (Ronald Reagan was U.S. President at the time, and we needed all the positive thinking we could muster.) I also happened to produce music and interview programs at the station, so it was a simple matter to make the recording arrangements.
Through his representative, Mr. Cousins graciously consented to the recording and to subsequent radio broadcast of his hospital talk. In fact the whole affair was unusual in that it went without a problem: everything was on schedule, the PA system worked fine, the tape recording was flawless. And one more small detail. Mr. Cousins' talk was absolutely riveting — he was a study in eloquence, wisdom and strength. While I didn't expect to have such an uplifting experience, many others obviously did. The hospital auditorium was packed. Mr. Cousins' talk was also televised live simultaneously throughout the hospital, enabling any patient to tune in from their hospital bed.
I was caught off-guard by the journalist in me. 'Who is this guy?' I asked myself. (I had quite a bit to learn.) Now, at about that time I had mainly been interviewing jazz musicians. But this little guy in the suit and tie was putting more down than a lot of these musician cats! I decided that the broadcast program would not be complete without an interview, and again, Mr. Cousins graciously consented.
By the time I approached Mr. Cousins in his office at the UCLA School of Medicine (he was then an adjunct professor in their Brain Research Institute), I had done my homework. This was no LA feel-good-about-yourself shuckster, no sir. This was the real deal. My detailed reading of Mr. Cousin's background left me very impressed: writer, national weekly magazine editor (for 35 years), among the earliest outspoken critics of nuclear proliferation, founder of the World Federalists, protege of Albert Schweitzer; the list goes on. When I faced Mr. Cousins, I had discovered my humility — and a good thing, too, because I met a man that day who was among the most unpretentious human beings I have known. "Call me Norman," he said.
Our association was brief and very focused. We corresponded numerous times regarding the radio program I subsequently produced, and he responded wholeheartedly when I reported the wonderful reception it had received both locally and nationally. I continued to learn (as I do to this day) about his background and his prolific activities in an array of fields. I discovered he was, like me, an avid photographer, and that we even shared the same birthday (albeit a few years apart).
And when he passed on in 1990 as the result of sudden, massive heart failure, I mourned Mr. Cousins with a deep admiration and an emotion I could not explain. I found in him a very personal model for self actualization and dedication to human advancement in this world. But I never could be comfortable calling him just Norman.
— Bob Rosenbaum, 1999