An evening with Fritz Perls

By Ira Spector

SAN DIEGO — One of the very most prominent names in the field of Humanistic Psychology was Fritz Perls, the great Gestalt Psychiatrist. When Fritz was alive, he was often bored, but never boring. He was arrogant, mean at times, totally individualistic, and posturing. He dressed as a guru with a full length jump suit, beads, and a full gray beard. He was adored by women, not for his looks, he was not a handsome man, but for his strength of will, outrageous convictions, and stern father image. He had an approach to treating patients that was unique and fascinating.

I met Fritz in 1968 at a growth center popular in the 60’s and 70’s. It was a period when all decent middle-class, middle-age, males and females were into their mid life crises and spending their first surplus dollars on something besides Christmas toys and overseas vacations. Kairos was nestled cozily in the wealthiest residential area in San Diego, Rancho Santa Fe. Fritz often visited there to lead group therapy sessions. His primary residence was at Esalen, another growth center at Big Sur in northern California.

I was quite involved with Kairos, and helped Fritz with some of his personal business. I guess this endeared me to him, although he barely thanked me for my efforts.

One evening I attended a demonstration therapy session given by him. Approximately 50 people gathered in a cottage on the grounds. Positioned on a small raised dais were two comfortable looking stuffed chairs angled to face each other and the audience. The group buzzed with anticipation awaiting the maestro. He appeared an exquisitely-timed few minutes late, in his usual attire, chain-smoking cigarettes. Fritz stood on the dais not saying a word, not looking at anyone in particular, and puffing away. After about five minutes of this posturing he imperiously announced in his guttural German accent, “I am available,” and then sat down.

A couple of minutes passed and a slightly stocky single woman in her early forties summoned courage, and stepped onto the dais, and sat in the other chair. She took a deep breath and began her complaint. She confessed to being angry and frustrated and not being able to express it. “What do you want from me?” asked Fritz. “Help me find a way to get rid of this rage inside me.” “Maybe you need to fight someone.” Anyone here want to fight her?” A trim young man in his 20’s volunteered, stepped onto the stage, and enthusiastically grappled with the suffering woman. They wrestled and tumbled on the hardwood floor as if it was a canvas ring at an arena. Their clothing was being ripped to shreds, but they were oblivious to all but their own efforts and emotions. Fritz continued to chain-smoke, look bored, never showing the least interest in their grappling. Finally they stopped from sheer exhaustion. The young man left the stage, and the panting woman sat down in the chair, her body heaving from the extreme effort. “How do you feel now?” Fritz calmly asked. “Great,” she replied- free!” “ What do want to do now?” he inquired. “Have sex,” She replied. “So go and enjoy,” he exclaimed, and waived her away in dismissal.

A second young man hesitatingly sat in the hot seat, didn’t say a word, searching his inner self for the courage to begin. The uncomfortable silence went on for almost ten minutes. Fritz sat impassively puffing away. Finally with a roar, he stood up and passionately screamed at the poor guy, “How dare you try to manipulate me with your silence! Get out of my sight!”  With that dismissal, the diminished fellow left the dais mute as he had arrived, like a puppy with his tail between his legs.

I took advantage of the opportunity to be next. Always struggling with my weight and all the emotional baggage that goes with it, I laid it out to Fritz. I remember crying, which I don’t do too often. I don’t remember any therapeutic breakthroughs. I do remember he was rather kind to me, which I’m sure was related to the help I had given him. Unknown to me, in the session, a 40-year-old heavyset man was in the audience, identifying with my feelings as being similar to his own. Later in the evening he talked with his wife, who had been there, about this association. They were staying at one of the rooms on the hotel premises. In the middle of the night, he had a massive heart attack and died. The director of the institute, asked Fritz to console the grieving widow, who was suffering intense grief and despair. Fritz refused, because he felt the woman hated her husband for his weight problem. He had never met the woman.

Fritz had a unique personal view of the world he perceived. His original thinking, manipulations, performances and gifted healing talents ameliorated the dark side of his thoughts and feelings which were legendary. I believe that the greater majority of unimaginative people who abhor risk, and need safe and secure sameness to guide their lives would despise Fritz. I thoroughly enjoyed knowing him. I’m glad he walked among us.

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Ira Spector is a freelance writer based in San Diego. This selection, with slight revisions, was republished from Spector’s 2011 work, Sammy Where Are You? An Unconventional Memoir … Sort of. It is available via Amazon.