By Edwin Cooney
In response to my June 16th column entitled “MEMORY LANE—SWEET DECEPTION,” one of my readers, a personal friend, gave me a good-natured scolding.
In that column I asserted that the past was sweet but inevitably deceptive, primarily because the pain and puzzle of its challenges have been resolved. Here, in part, is what he wrote:
“The past -- history – or precedent are, in my view, far better teachers than the gamble of the present; so while this is a well written column, full of wisdom, I think you fail to give the past its due. And you, a wanna-be history teacher.”
“Having said that, of course our personal perceptions, our personalities and yes, I daresay, our selective memories all too often taint the accuracy of that which is gone by, but history is still our best teacher.”
Ah! But history, written as a mere narrative absent a personal perception, is a dull or, even worse, a dead document or lesson. Hence, in keeping with my personal reputation for tact, I must assert the following:
History may be informative, enlightening and even entertaining, but history is no teacher. I’ll go so far as to say that history even lacks personality. Furthermore, history is totally dependant upon individual recollection and interpretation. In fact, Herodotus (c. 484 to c. 425 BC), whom many consider to be the father of history, was countermanded by Thucydides (c. 460 to c. 400 BC) who asserted that history was the result of choices and ideas rather than the result of mandates from the Gods.
History itself is rich with interpretation whether examined by George Bancroft, Woodrow Wilson, Theodore Roosevelt or even by one Edwin Cooney of Alameda, California.
Perhaps a quick look at recent history will suffice.
The great lesson from World War II was “never appease a dictatorship.” The implication of that lesson was that if one challenged a dictatorship instead of giving into it, free men and women of good will could best avoid war. The result of that lesson was the 1964 Tonkin Gulf Resolution and 58,000 dead Americans in that unnecessary Vietnamese conflict.
Twenty-eight years ago, the American people were presented another “history” lesson, that the American people had been victimized for the previous fifty years by big government and that “free enterprise” was the working American’s best friend. By September 2008, however, it became clear that unregulated free enterprise could be as dangerous as unchecked bureaucracy. Corporate America was abandoning John and Suzie Q. Citizen in America for cheap labor in Asia and Latin America. Meanwhile unregulated bankers urged working Americans to invest in moneymaking schemes based on making money rather than the sale of goods and services.
There are people who insist that those who forget history are condemned to repeat it. However, that is not what philosopher and poet George Santayana (who authored the quote in 1905) wrote. What he really said was “those who can not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
History isn’t the past, but our story or spin on the past. I insist that “history” as we conceptualize it, seldom if ever repeats itself. The sources and lessons of its story are as varied as its characters.
The history teacher ultimately offers the student that which is recorded rather than what is learned. Recorded history is a mishmash of contradictions. All too often, a professor, politician, or preacher asserts that history tells us this or that and then dramatically proceeds to make a case that is often a combination of fact and theory—usually socio/political. However, as the late Edward R. Murrow once observed, “What free men and women choose to do with what they learn is ultimately up to them.”
As I see it, there’s precious little difference between the teacher of history and the student of history. History, as a discipline, is as void or full of practicality, wisdom or morality as are its characters.
History is packed with fascinating events and personalities, but it is ultimately a blank page—devoid of good or evil but a carrier of both.
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Monday, June 29, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
SEE YOU LATER ALLIGATOR—I HOPE
By Edwin Cooney
For two weeks and three days now, I’ve been meeting or revisiting some really special people who live everywhere throughout America except where I live.
As I rode the rails eastward between Oakland, California and Buffalo, New York, I met Patti—a temporarily wheelchair-ridden lady from Elko, Nevada. Patti runs a safe haven for stray animals looking for a home. Even more incredible, she’s about to marry her husband for the second time. A very dynamic individual, Patti devoutly believes in second chances. She divorced her husband some years ago and wants to be with him once again almost as much as she wants to walk following the motorcycle accident which five years ago destroyed both knees and severely damaged her back. Her recovery has been an exceedingly slow and painful one. This July, she’ll undergo surgery to replace both knees at once. She hopes to discard her wheelchair by mid September—just in time to remarry the man she once thought she could do without. It’s not likely that I’ll see Patti again, but it would be a treat to have that opportunity.
Then there’s Denny from Erie, Pennsylvania, a truck driver looking forward to coming off the road so that he might spend more time with his wife and son. Denny is an excellent conversationalist in part because he’s as good a listener as he is a talker. Deeply devoted to his family, Denny has a wide range of interests and is especially curious to know how people think and feel as well as what they care about.
Many of those I meet I expect to see again especially those I have known for awhile.
For openers, there’s the lady I call my mother who we all hope will turn 100 on January 1st, 2010. Edith has been blessed enough to see many seasons. She’s lived during the administrations of eighteen U.S. presidents going back to William Howard Taft. Edith, however, often opines that too many worthy people don’t live nearly long enough.
Then there’s a really sweet lady named Joanie whose family is hoping and praying -- as am I --that her upcoming cancer surgery will allow her at least five more happy years. Joanie’s sister Barbara is someone I’ve known since I was a lad of eleven. Joanie, although I don’t know her as well, has been sweet and generous to me. I hope to see her again next year and as many times in the coming summers as humanly and medically possible.
It has been my experience that ongoing contact too often causes us to take those around us for granted. However, as I prepare to return to my California diggings, I’m keenly aware of the preciousness of those with whom my contact has been all too fleeting.
As these sentiments go to press and I begin my trek westward along steel rails, I’ll offer heartfelt telepathic greetings to people such as: my dear friends Chet and his wife “Lady Linda” who are both thoughtful and intellectually energizing; Judy Joy whose middle name is a commentary on what she brings to others; dutiful Jan whose intensity and sincerity is matched by few; unpredictable Kathlyn whom I’ll always treasure; my pal Paul who makes me feel good just by saying hello; Barbara whose passions bubble like the finest champagne; Bob who watches out for me but doesn’t want me to know it; and Roe who cares more than she should which causes me to feel humblingly grateful.
The people I’ve mentioned above are only the beginning of a list of those who matter to me. That which is fleeting (the time I shared with them and others) is of value by virtue of its brevity. However, what really matters is the opportunity to experience people of quality for whatever time there may be.
Fifty-three years have passed since Bill Haley and the Comets sang out “See Ya Later Alligator.” Haley’s “goodbye” was to a spurning lover. My expression of that silly salutation expresses the hope that I may have the good fortune to encounter this gang of wonderful alligators many more times to come.
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
For two weeks and three days now, I’ve been meeting or revisiting some really special people who live everywhere throughout America except where I live.
As I rode the rails eastward between Oakland, California and Buffalo, New York, I met Patti—a temporarily wheelchair-ridden lady from Elko, Nevada. Patti runs a safe haven for stray animals looking for a home. Even more incredible, she’s about to marry her husband for the second time. A very dynamic individual, Patti devoutly believes in second chances. She divorced her husband some years ago and wants to be with him once again almost as much as she wants to walk following the motorcycle accident which five years ago destroyed both knees and severely damaged her back. Her recovery has been an exceedingly slow and painful one. This July, she’ll undergo surgery to replace both knees at once. She hopes to discard her wheelchair by mid September—just in time to remarry the man she once thought she could do without. It’s not likely that I’ll see Patti again, but it would be a treat to have that opportunity.
Then there’s Denny from Erie, Pennsylvania, a truck driver looking forward to coming off the road so that he might spend more time with his wife and son. Denny is an excellent conversationalist in part because he’s as good a listener as he is a talker. Deeply devoted to his family, Denny has a wide range of interests and is especially curious to know how people think and feel as well as what they care about.
Many of those I meet I expect to see again especially those I have known for awhile.
For openers, there’s the lady I call my mother who we all hope will turn 100 on January 1st, 2010. Edith has been blessed enough to see many seasons. She’s lived during the administrations of eighteen U.S. presidents going back to William Howard Taft. Edith, however, often opines that too many worthy people don’t live nearly long enough.
Then there’s a really sweet lady named Joanie whose family is hoping and praying -- as am I --that her upcoming cancer surgery will allow her at least five more happy years. Joanie’s sister Barbara is someone I’ve known since I was a lad of eleven. Joanie, although I don’t know her as well, has been sweet and generous to me. I hope to see her again next year and as many times in the coming summers as humanly and medically possible.
It has been my experience that ongoing contact too often causes us to take those around us for granted. However, as I prepare to return to my California diggings, I’m keenly aware of the preciousness of those with whom my contact has been all too fleeting.
As these sentiments go to press and I begin my trek westward along steel rails, I’ll offer heartfelt telepathic greetings to people such as: my dear friends Chet and his wife “Lady Linda” who are both thoughtful and intellectually energizing; Judy Joy whose middle name is a commentary on what she brings to others; dutiful Jan whose intensity and sincerity is matched by few; unpredictable Kathlyn whom I’ll always treasure; my pal Paul who makes me feel good just by saying hello; Barbara whose passions bubble like the finest champagne; Bob who watches out for me but doesn’t want me to know it; and Roe who cares more than she should which causes me to feel humblingly grateful.
The people I’ve mentioned above are only the beginning of a list of those who matter to me. That which is fleeting (the time I shared with them and others) is of value by virtue of its brevity. However, what really matters is the opportunity to experience people of quality for whatever time there may be.
Fifty-three years have passed since Bill Haley and the Comets sang out “See Ya Later Alligator.” Haley’s “goodbye” was to a spurning lover. My expression of that silly salutation expresses the hope that I may have the good fortune to encounter this gang of wonderful alligators many more times to come.
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
MEMORY LANE—SWEET DECEPTION
By Edwin Cooney
It’s that time of year for me once again. I’m writing this from Batavia, New York where I’m attending the ninety-first alumni reunion of the residential School for the Blind where I was a student from age four until I was twenty years old.
Just do the math and you’ll realize that it took me seventeen instead of thirteen seasons to go from kindergarten through the twelfth grade. You can see that struggle more than genius was my most constant companion. Even so, I look back on those years largely through rose-colored rather than through dark tinted glasses.
Strange as that metaphor may seem coming from someone growing up with blindness, the fact remains that true vision is a gift of the mind and spirit as much as it is the function of eyesight.
During the hours that are to come, I will join approximately fifty former NYSSB students to once again exchange memories of people and events we experienced when we were young. We’ll speak of teachers, houseparents, staff members and occasions long gone. Most of what we recall will be sweet, made still sweeter by memories of those people and occasions that perhaps weren’t so sweet at the time. Most of our memories will be accurate, although filtered by perception rather than authenticated through documentation. What we’ll recall about a teacher or a fellow student, especially one not present for whatever reason, will be tinged by who we are and what we perceive absent the force and personage of the individual being talked about.
We won’t call our reminiscences “history,” but that’s exactly what they are. Past struggles and crises differ from those we may currently be experiencing largely because we’ve survived them. This is true not only for the graduates of the New York State School for the Blind; it is equally true for “we, the people of the United States.”
Since last September’s financial crisis, Americans have feared, with good reason, the onset of an economic depression. Yet, if you have the chance to talk to many people who lived through the 1930s, there’s pride in their voices even as they recall deprivation and struggle — after all, they survived closed banks, ravished farms, low wages, lost jobs and home foreclosures. True, their pathway to prosperity may well have been World War II, but to hear them talk of those times, you often get the impression that they’d do it all over again if they really had to.
Hence, like boys and girls who passed through the crucible of blindness some forty to sixty plus years ago, Americans feel sure that they made it largely because of experiences and principles well-established which only need to be applied once again to insure safe passage through the crises that will come.
Therein lies the sweet deception of wonderful weekends such as the one I’m experiencing. Many of my fellow alumni are under the illusion that the world for today’s children who live with blindness would be best served if our alma mater could be what it once was. Unfortunately, our world is gone. Parents of blind children today want to educate their children at or near home. Granted that local schools aren’t always up to the task of giving children with blindness what they might need, today’s accessible technology can and often does make up the difference.
Likewise, America’s memory of its glorious past can be quite deceiving. The truth is we didn’t make it through the depression applying lessons already learned. New challenges are invariably different enough from crises gone by to require different strategies. However, in anticipation of possible hard times ahead, we first look to past strategies before realizing what tomorrow demands.
Thus this sweetly deceptive weekend. For approximately seventy-two hours, almost everything those of us who are attending this reunion think, feel or hope for stems from our youth. For about three days, in our minds if not in our hearts, we possess the energy and idealism of yesteryear.
If only we could bottle that energy and idealism, problem solving would be so much easier. Ah! But there’s the catch. Even with all our energy, idealism and determination, we can’t be sure that we will be able to master today’s crises—after all, unlike yesterday’s challenges, we have yet to survive them.
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
It’s that time of year for me once again. I’m writing this from Batavia, New York where I’m attending the ninety-first alumni reunion of the residential School for the Blind where I was a student from age four until I was twenty years old.
Just do the math and you’ll realize that it took me seventeen instead of thirteen seasons to go from kindergarten through the twelfth grade. You can see that struggle more than genius was my most constant companion. Even so, I look back on those years largely through rose-colored rather than through dark tinted glasses.
Strange as that metaphor may seem coming from someone growing up with blindness, the fact remains that true vision is a gift of the mind and spirit as much as it is the function of eyesight.
During the hours that are to come, I will join approximately fifty former NYSSB students to once again exchange memories of people and events we experienced when we were young. We’ll speak of teachers, houseparents, staff members and occasions long gone. Most of what we recall will be sweet, made still sweeter by memories of those people and occasions that perhaps weren’t so sweet at the time. Most of our memories will be accurate, although filtered by perception rather than authenticated through documentation. What we’ll recall about a teacher or a fellow student, especially one not present for whatever reason, will be tinged by who we are and what we perceive absent the force and personage of the individual being talked about.
We won’t call our reminiscences “history,” but that’s exactly what they are. Past struggles and crises differ from those we may currently be experiencing largely because we’ve survived them. This is true not only for the graduates of the New York State School for the Blind; it is equally true for “we, the people of the United States.”
Since last September’s financial crisis, Americans have feared, with good reason, the onset of an economic depression. Yet, if you have the chance to talk to many people who lived through the 1930s, there’s pride in their voices even as they recall deprivation and struggle — after all, they survived closed banks, ravished farms, low wages, lost jobs and home foreclosures. True, their pathway to prosperity may well have been World War II, but to hear them talk of those times, you often get the impression that they’d do it all over again if they really had to.
Hence, like boys and girls who passed through the crucible of blindness some forty to sixty plus years ago, Americans feel sure that they made it largely because of experiences and principles well-established which only need to be applied once again to insure safe passage through the crises that will come.
Therein lies the sweet deception of wonderful weekends such as the one I’m experiencing. Many of my fellow alumni are under the illusion that the world for today’s children who live with blindness would be best served if our alma mater could be what it once was. Unfortunately, our world is gone. Parents of blind children today want to educate their children at or near home. Granted that local schools aren’t always up to the task of giving children with blindness what they might need, today’s accessible technology can and often does make up the difference.
Likewise, America’s memory of its glorious past can be quite deceiving. The truth is we didn’t make it through the depression applying lessons already learned. New challenges are invariably different enough from crises gone by to require different strategies. However, in anticipation of possible hard times ahead, we first look to past strategies before realizing what tomorrow demands.
Thus this sweetly deceptive weekend. For approximately seventy-two hours, almost everything those of us who are attending this reunion think, feel or hope for stems from our youth. For about three days, in our minds if not in our hearts, we possess the energy and idealism of yesteryear.
If only we could bottle that energy and idealism, problem solving would be so much easier. Ah! But there’s the catch. Even with all our energy, idealism and determination, we can’t be sure that we will be able to master today’s crises—after all, unlike yesterday’s challenges, we have yet to survive them.
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Monday, June 1, 2009
RICHARD NIXONISM—IT JUST WON’T LET ME GO!
By Edwin Cooney
If you’ve ever been in a play or part of a musical production, then you’ll understand what I mean when I tell you that I’m suffering from (I’ll come right out and say it) “Richard Nixonism”. During the past several weeks, I’ve been preparing a lecture which I called “Richard Nixon: a President without an anchor.”
I delivered that lecture last Tuesday night on Accessibleworld.org, a website dedicated to providing intellectual growth and educational enhancement to all who choose to utilize it. Its director, Mr. Bob Acosta, has been generously encouraging, patient, kind, and highly complimentary to me. For this particular discussion, I wanted to delve into the life and times of a man whose political and public career touched the lives of anyone born between, say, 1890 and 1960.
My task, as I saw it, was to offer the audience my conclusion that Richard Nixon’s fate came about largely because he possessed little doctrine and insufficient spiritual guidance to adequately anchor his actions. Nixon’s life and career were largely governed by lessons learned through personal experiences and politics.
One of the earliest lessons young Richard learned was the first law of survival: get up when you fall down. That’s what three-year-old Richard did after falling off the lap of a neighbor lady when the buggy his mother was driving took too sharp a turn rounding a curve. The little fellow tumbled toward the dirt road and blood streamed over the top of his head, but the boy was immediately on his feet running toward the buggy before it came to a full stop. He nearly bled to death during the twenty-five mile ride to the nearest doctor.
Another lesson young Nixon learned was that the elite (or “better born”) would always be privileged over those whom he’d eventually refer to as “the great silent majority of Americans.” Dick Nixon would find elitists in such places as Whittier College, the US Department of State, the CIA and, worst of all, in the media -- especially the left wing of the Democratic party.
Murray Chotiner, the man Nixon hired in 1946 as his first campaign manager, was also a teacher of lessons. Chotiner, a somewhat unsavory lawyer and political PR hand, advised Nixon to define his political opponent in the public mind before that opponent defined him. Voters, Chotiner told Nixon, don’t vote for you, they vote against you or your opponent. Defining and thus diminishing one’s opponent, Nixon learned, was easily as important as the issues in any political race.
The next lesson, which was little known until much later, was that if you are important enough there will be a public outcry if someone breaks into your campaign headquarters. Until then, no one is going to feel sorry for you. For example, in the early spring of 1946, Dick and his wife Pat had stocked their congressional campaign headquarters with what they hoped was sufficient literature to begin making headway in their campaign for Congress. The young couple had put their entire life savings (including Nixon’s wartime poker winnings and Pat’s inheritance) into these purchases. One morning, when they arrived at the office, all was gone. The place had been burglarized -- and the burglary was never solved.
Finally, Richard Milhous Nixon learned that if you’re rich, well connected, and clever enough (or if you happened to hold a sufficiently high place in the government), you can skirt the domain of the law so long as you’re not caught breaking the law. He also noted that someone who was young, handsome, rich, and running for the presidency in a close race didn’t need to break the law to win -- a big city mayor would do it instead (ala JFK in 1960). Covering up your administration’s role in a bungled foreign policy venture is no crime if you’re careful — Camelot lasted for two-and-half years after President Kennedy covered up the Bay of Pigs fiasco in April of 1961. If the Kennedy Administration could be forgiven for the murder of South Vietnamese President Diem (which weakened our efforts in Southeast Asia thereby continuing the war for ten more years), how could it be a sin for Nixon to take a mere five years to Vietnamize that war to win it “with honor”? If LBJ could bug Nixon’s offices in 1968 (according to FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover) wasn’t the Democratic headquarters in 1972 fair game? Finally, if he wasn’t “exposed”, Senator Edward M. Kennedy would get away with the death of young Mary Jo Kopechne — he could even become President at Nixon’s expense! The result of this speculation was—you guessed it—Watergate.
As time went on and his experience in international affairs increased, Richard Nixon abandoned his strict anti-communism stance in favor of a more pragmatic outlook. China was a factor beyond moral outrage and had to be recognized. As Churchill recognized the evil Stalin, Nixon would find it practical to recognize Mao Tse-Tung -- ruthless as he was. Dedicated to his “saintly” mother’s ideal of world peace, Richard Nixon saw America’s honor and reputation throughout the world as key to achieving peace.
So here I am, suffering from a bad case of Nixon withdrawal. Interest in the life and times of Richard Nixon is a bad but compelling habit. Like drinking and smoking, fascination with Mr. Nixon is almost chronic. Even when you think you’ve beaten it, Richard Nixonism like its namesake gets up when it falls down.
Hmm! I wonder if, after all these years, “Richard Nixonism” is contagious!
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
If you’ve ever been in a play or part of a musical production, then you’ll understand what I mean when I tell you that I’m suffering from (I’ll come right out and say it) “Richard Nixonism”. During the past several weeks, I’ve been preparing a lecture which I called “Richard Nixon: a President without an anchor.”
I delivered that lecture last Tuesday night on Accessibleworld.org, a website dedicated to providing intellectual growth and educational enhancement to all who choose to utilize it. Its director, Mr. Bob Acosta, has been generously encouraging, patient, kind, and highly complimentary to me. For this particular discussion, I wanted to delve into the life and times of a man whose political and public career touched the lives of anyone born between, say, 1890 and 1960.
My task, as I saw it, was to offer the audience my conclusion that Richard Nixon’s fate came about largely because he possessed little doctrine and insufficient spiritual guidance to adequately anchor his actions. Nixon’s life and career were largely governed by lessons learned through personal experiences and politics.
One of the earliest lessons young Richard learned was the first law of survival: get up when you fall down. That’s what three-year-old Richard did after falling off the lap of a neighbor lady when the buggy his mother was driving took too sharp a turn rounding a curve. The little fellow tumbled toward the dirt road and blood streamed over the top of his head, but the boy was immediately on his feet running toward the buggy before it came to a full stop. He nearly bled to death during the twenty-five mile ride to the nearest doctor.
Another lesson young Nixon learned was that the elite (or “better born”) would always be privileged over those whom he’d eventually refer to as “the great silent majority of Americans.” Dick Nixon would find elitists in such places as Whittier College, the US Department of State, the CIA and, worst of all, in the media -- especially the left wing of the Democratic party.
Murray Chotiner, the man Nixon hired in 1946 as his first campaign manager, was also a teacher of lessons. Chotiner, a somewhat unsavory lawyer and political PR hand, advised Nixon to define his political opponent in the public mind before that opponent defined him. Voters, Chotiner told Nixon, don’t vote for you, they vote against you or your opponent. Defining and thus diminishing one’s opponent, Nixon learned, was easily as important as the issues in any political race.
The next lesson, which was little known until much later, was that if you are important enough there will be a public outcry if someone breaks into your campaign headquarters. Until then, no one is going to feel sorry for you. For example, in the early spring of 1946, Dick and his wife Pat had stocked their congressional campaign headquarters with what they hoped was sufficient literature to begin making headway in their campaign for Congress. The young couple had put their entire life savings (including Nixon’s wartime poker winnings and Pat’s inheritance) into these purchases. One morning, when they arrived at the office, all was gone. The place had been burglarized -- and the burglary was never solved.
Finally, Richard Milhous Nixon learned that if you’re rich, well connected, and clever enough (or if you happened to hold a sufficiently high place in the government), you can skirt the domain of the law so long as you’re not caught breaking the law. He also noted that someone who was young, handsome, rich, and running for the presidency in a close race didn’t need to break the law to win -- a big city mayor would do it instead (ala JFK in 1960). Covering up your administration’s role in a bungled foreign policy venture is no crime if you’re careful — Camelot lasted for two-and-half years after President Kennedy covered up the Bay of Pigs fiasco in April of 1961. If the Kennedy Administration could be forgiven for the murder of South Vietnamese President Diem (which weakened our efforts in Southeast Asia thereby continuing the war for ten more years), how could it be a sin for Nixon to take a mere five years to Vietnamize that war to win it “with honor”? If LBJ could bug Nixon’s offices in 1968 (according to FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover) wasn’t the Democratic headquarters in 1972 fair game? Finally, if he wasn’t “exposed”, Senator Edward M. Kennedy would get away with the death of young Mary Jo Kopechne — he could even become President at Nixon’s expense! The result of this speculation was—you guessed it—Watergate.
As time went on and his experience in international affairs increased, Richard Nixon abandoned his strict anti-communism stance in favor of a more pragmatic outlook. China was a factor beyond moral outrage and had to be recognized. As Churchill recognized the evil Stalin, Nixon would find it practical to recognize Mao Tse-Tung -- ruthless as he was. Dedicated to his “saintly” mother’s ideal of world peace, Richard Nixon saw America’s honor and reputation throughout the world as key to achieving peace.
So here I am, suffering from a bad case of Nixon withdrawal. Interest in the life and times of Richard Nixon is a bad but compelling habit. Like drinking and smoking, fascination with Mr. Nixon is almost chronic. Even when you think you’ve beaten it, Richard Nixonism like its namesake gets up when it falls down.
Hmm! I wonder if, after all these years, “Richard Nixonism” is contagious!
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Monday, May 18, 2009
IT AIN’T FAIR—IT’S BASEBALL!
By Edwin Cooney
Since 1869, professional baseball has been America’s “national pastime.” Like its fans, baseball is entertaining, and often grippingly outrageous. Recent scandals involving Alex Rodriguez and Manny Ramirez remind fans once again that the game costs too much and besides — it ain’t fair anymore. The truth is that baseball is a lot of wonderful things, but fair is one thing it has never consistently been.
Baseball was born in small town America, but only large corporations can afford to run baseball these days. Back on Tuesday, May 29, 1922, the brethren of the U.S. Supreme Court (which then was populated with such distinguished personages as Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., Louis Brandeis and William Howard Taft) ruled in FEDERAL CLUB V. NATIONAL LEAGUE , 259 U.S. 200 (1922) that baseball was a sport not a business. That is, baseball wasn’t a business under the provisions of the Sherman-Clayton Antitrust Act, the Federal statute that regulated interstate commerce. On that historic date, baseball owners got their piece of the pie.
Of course, back then practically all of the 16 major league teams were run by individual entrepreneurs or well-heeled families such as the Wrigleys and the Comiskeys. Even if the high court didn’t think baseball was a business, Americans knew better. Connie Mack, the man who owned and managed the Philadelphia Athletics, used to say that the best year was when your team was in first place through Labor Day, because if it went to the World Series, you’d have to pay the players more money the following year. You can be sure that Cornelius Alexander McGillicuddy — whom some called “Mr. Mack” and others called “the tall tactician”— knew the difference between every nickel and dollar he ever spent.
Like its fans, the game has been touched by scandal numerous times. Most everyone has heard about the Black Sox Scandal of 1919 when eight White Sox players were paid by gamblers to throw the World Series to the Cincinnati Reds. That wasn’t the first time gamblers tainted the game.
Back in 1877, Louisville Grays pitcher Jim Devlin and three other Grays players admitted to “hippodroming” -- or throwing -- games. Devlin was the team’s only pitcher (they pretty much threw underhanded back then) and the ringleader. What makes this story so American is the irony that following Devlin’s expulsion from the National League, civic- minded Philadelphians made Jim Devlin one of their policemen! As the great baseball announcer Mel Allen used to say: “How about that!”
Imagine what ESPN’s Sports Center would look like if what happened back in 1912 happened today. Ty Cobb’s Tigers were in New York playing the Yankees on Tuesday, May 15th. A loud fan spent the entire afternoon shouting personal insults at Cobb. The fan jeered his lineage, integrity and manhood. The Tigers appealed to the Yankees to do something about the fan without success. Finally, Cobb had had enough and went into the stands. Within a very short time, the fan was a bloody mess and the police moved in. It wasn’t even a good fight, but there was a reason for that. The fan, Claude Lucker, was missing one hand and had only part of the other hand as the result of an industrial accident. As if that wasn’t enough, when American League President Ban Johnson fined and suspended Cobb, the Tigers retaliated by threatening to strike. Cobb was too mean to be popular with his teammates, but with the Tiger players blaming the Yankees for the whole incident, for once he had their sympathy. The home team, as the Tigers saw it, was responsible for controlling the hometown fans. Johnson said that if the Tigers didn’t play, the organization would be fined five thousand “big ones”.
The players were as good as their word and, when the Tigers were scheduled to play the Athletics in Philadelphia on May 18th, they struck. To avoid the $5,000 fine, the Tigers quickly hired seven St. Joseph College players and two sandlot players to take their places. The nine Philadelphia players, representing Detroit, Michigan for a day, were backed up by a couple of coaches, retired players who came out of retirement for the day.
As you might guess, the game was a disaster for pitcher Aloysius Travers (who would eventually become a priest). The A’s scored 24 runs off him and his teammates made nine errors behind him.
One of the hired players was Billy Maharg who, according to some sources, was a go-between in the Black Sox Scandal of 1919. His real name was, supposedly, William Joseph Graham — Maharg spelled backward. Here’s another twist for you: you could call him Billy Graham.
Twenty thousand fans paid to see the spectacle. You may ask did they get their money’s worth? This really did happen. If you don’t believe me, as Casey Stengel used to say, “you can look it up”.
Baseball will easily survive the hysteria over Barry Bonds, Alex Rodriguez, Manny Ramirez, Roger Clemens and others who may or may not be eligible for induction into the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. You know Cooperstown, New York: that’s the American village where baseball wasn’t really invented.
Baseball is more than a game. It’s part true and part legend, it’s tradition, it’s the unpredictable, and, best of all, it is loaded with incredible stories all of which you and I have yet to hear. Above all, baseball is you, me, and the rest of America in the mirror.
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Since 1869, professional baseball has been America’s “national pastime.” Like its fans, baseball is entertaining, and often grippingly outrageous. Recent scandals involving Alex Rodriguez and Manny Ramirez remind fans once again that the game costs too much and besides — it ain’t fair anymore. The truth is that baseball is a lot of wonderful things, but fair is one thing it has never consistently been.
Baseball was born in small town America, but only large corporations can afford to run baseball these days. Back on Tuesday, May 29, 1922, the brethren of the U.S. Supreme Court (which then was populated with such distinguished personages as Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., Louis Brandeis and William Howard Taft) ruled in FEDERAL CLUB V. NATIONAL LEAGUE , 259 U.S. 200 (1922) that baseball was a sport not a business. That is, baseball wasn’t a business under the provisions of the Sherman-Clayton Antitrust Act, the Federal statute that regulated interstate commerce. On that historic date, baseball owners got their piece of the pie.
Of course, back then practically all of the 16 major league teams were run by individual entrepreneurs or well-heeled families such as the Wrigleys and the Comiskeys. Even if the high court didn’t think baseball was a business, Americans knew better. Connie Mack, the man who owned and managed the Philadelphia Athletics, used to say that the best year was when your team was in first place through Labor Day, because if it went to the World Series, you’d have to pay the players more money the following year. You can be sure that Cornelius Alexander McGillicuddy — whom some called “Mr. Mack” and others called “the tall tactician”— knew the difference between every nickel and dollar he ever spent.
Like its fans, the game has been touched by scandal numerous times. Most everyone has heard about the Black Sox Scandal of 1919 when eight White Sox players were paid by gamblers to throw the World Series to the Cincinnati Reds. That wasn’t the first time gamblers tainted the game.
Back in 1877, Louisville Grays pitcher Jim Devlin and three other Grays players admitted to “hippodroming” -- or throwing -- games. Devlin was the team’s only pitcher (they pretty much threw underhanded back then) and the ringleader. What makes this story so American is the irony that following Devlin’s expulsion from the National League, civic- minded Philadelphians made Jim Devlin one of their policemen! As the great baseball announcer Mel Allen used to say: “How about that!”
Imagine what ESPN’s Sports Center would look like if what happened back in 1912 happened today. Ty Cobb’s Tigers were in New York playing the Yankees on Tuesday, May 15th. A loud fan spent the entire afternoon shouting personal insults at Cobb. The fan jeered his lineage, integrity and manhood. The Tigers appealed to the Yankees to do something about the fan without success. Finally, Cobb had had enough and went into the stands. Within a very short time, the fan was a bloody mess and the police moved in. It wasn’t even a good fight, but there was a reason for that. The fan, Claude Lucker, was missing one hand and had only part of the other hand as the result of an industrial accident. As if that wasn’t enough, when American League President Ban Johnson fined and suspended Cobb, the Tigers retaliated by threatening to strike. Cobb was too mean to be popular with his teammates, but with the Tiger players blaming the Yankees for the whole incident, for once he had their sympathy. The home team, as the Tigers saw it, was responsible for controlling the hometown fans. Johnson said that if the Tigers didn’t play, the organization would be fined five thousand “big ones”.
The players were as good as their word and, when the Tigers were scheduled to play the Athletics in Philadelphia on May 18th, they struck. To avoid the $5,000 fine, the Tigers quickly hired seven St. Joseph College players and two sandlot players to take their places. The nine Philadelphia players, representing Detroit, Michigan for a day, were backed up by a couple of coaches, retired players who came out of retirement for the day.
As you might guess, the game was a disaster for pitcher Aloysius Travers (who would eventually become a priest). The A’s scored 24 runs off him and his teammates made nine errors behind him.
One of the hired players was Billy Maharg who, according to some sources, was a go-between in the Black Sox Scandal of 1919. His real name was, supposedly, William Joseph Graham — Maharg spelled backward. Here’s another twist for you: you could call him Billy Graham.
Twenty thousand fans paid to see the spectacle. You may ask did they get their money’s worth? This really did happen. If you don’t believe me, as Casey Stengel used to say, “you can look it up”.
Baseball will easily survive the hysteria over Barry Bonds, Alex Rodriguez, Manny Ramirez, Roger Clemens and others who may or may not be eligible for induction into the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. You know Cooperstown, New York: that’s the American village where baseball wasn’t really invented.
Baseball is more than a game. It’s part true and part legend, it’s tradition, it’s the unpredictable, and, best of all, it is loaded with incredible stories all of which you and I have yet to hear. Above all, baseball is you, me, and the rest of America in the mirror.
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Monday, May 11, 2009
BEYOND THE RECORD
By Edwin Cooney
If you’ve lived long enough, debated and evaluated people and events frequently enough, you’ve judged losers who really were winners and winners who should have been losers. It can take an entire lifetime to realize the difference. Jack Kemp, who died on Saturday, May 2, 2009, was mostly a winner.
Mr. Kemp was born on Sunday, July 13, 1935 in Los Angeles, California. Despite being a lad of slight stature, he was determined to play football from the age of six and eventually realized his improbable dream. A 1957 graduate of Occidental College, he was drafted, signed and subsequently cut by five different NFL and AFL teams: the Lions, Steelers, Giants, and Chargers. Ultimately, he was acquired by the Buffalo Bills. With the Bills, he’d be a two-time AFL champion. In fact, he was so popular that he won a seat in Congress representing Hamburg and parts of Buffalo, New York less than a year following his 1970 retirement from football.
He was handsome, energetic, and principled and, above all, a man of his word.
I met him in late May 1965 while representing the Batavia, New York State School for the Blind at a Lions Club fundraising weekend in Geneva, New York. He was one of the celebrity guests. “I’m not much of a football fan,” I told him, “What interests me about you is your conservatism.”
I spoke of my admiration for Richard Nixon, Barry Goldwater, and Republican conservatism. He told me to write him a letter care of the Bills and he’d put me in touch with Mr. Nixon. I didn’t really believe him. I thanked him, of course, but I was sure time would render his offer unlikely. So, I let it pass.
In mid January 1966, I was sitting in study hall during exam week confident that I could pass my next examination easily enough. One of the typewriters was free, so I sat down and wrote a letter to Jack Kemp care of the Bills reminding him of who I was and where I’d met him. I thought it was unlikely that I’d ever hear from him, but into the mail it went.
About six weeks later, I got a letter from Mr. Kemp. It came in a large envelope containing his photo with a football (of course) and it was autographed to me. In his letter he said he would soon be in California to campaign for Ronald Reagan with men whose names were then magic to me: Barry Goldwater, Everett Dirksen and Richard M. Nixon. “I’ll tell Mr. Nixon of your admiration for him,” he wrote.
In early June 1966, I learned that Jack Kemp had kept his word. I got a letter from Richard Nixon with a copy of his book “Six Crises,” which was autographed to me and a picture of Mr. Nixon that was also autographed. Thus my enduring gratitude to Jack Kemp.
Life goes on however. As Jack Kemp became established as a Republican Congressman, I increasingly grew restive about GOP principles. His position on public men such as Ronald Reagan and issues such as supply-side economics became increasingly alien to me. As far as I was concerned, he belatedly declared that he’d vote for the Articles of Impeachment against Mr. Nixon (August 5, 1974). My heart had already been broken by Richard Nixon, so it was hard for me to understand how Jack Kemp, a man of Christian and political principles, wasn’t already sufficiently disillusioned.
Still, I couldn’t entirely consider Congressman Kemp a nonentity. Clearly he was a conservative icon and his 1988 presidential candidacy was of some interest to me. It didn’t seem likely that he’d really be successful though. He was substantial enough, but he often talked too fast and his voice had a ragged tinge to it that I was sure grated on some folk’s nerves. (Actually, I empathized with him on that score as I live with a similar malady.) Still, those 1965/1966 memories were compelling.
Although energetic and passionate, Kemp was an intensely private person, reluctant to talk publicly about his personal experiences and emotional inclinations. Nevertheless, he possessed intellectual and spiritual depth and integrity. He cared intensely about minorities and the disabled. He sought to make it possible for tenants of public housing to purchase their homes while he was George H. W. Bush’s Secretary of Housing and Urban Development. Although thwarted in that effort, he was instrumental in the passage of the Affordable Housing Act which has annually made money available through block grants to low income home and business owners.
If there are some inclined to dismiss Jack Kemp as merely one of those whose name is on a list of ignominious losing vice presidential candidates (such as John Bricker, Bill Miller, Robert Dole, and Sarah Palin), they’d be well advised to recall that others on that list (Henry Cabot Lodge, Earl Warren, Edmund Muskie, and Franklin Roosevelt) were men of substantial achievement.
Sports heroes and politicians are inevitably judged by their records. Even though he was nominated for the second highest office in our land, Jack Kemp is likely to be remembered most for his success on the football field where he was truly one of the best during his career. However, the impact he made on the ideas of the nation and people he cared most about is intangible. Its substance is energy, commitment, belief, and loyalty. Even so, his legacy glimmers like a magnificent beacon shining above and beyond any achievement measurable in any record book. Goodness! That definition might be the description of a star!
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
If you’ve lived long enough, debated and evaluated people and events frequently enough, you’ve judged losers who really were winners and winners who should have been losers. It can take an entire lifetime to realize the difference. Jack Kemp, who died on Saturday, May 2, 2009, was mostly a winner.
Mr. Kemp was born on Sunday, July 13, 1935 in Los Angeles, California. Despite being a lad of slight stature, he was determined to play football from the age of six and eventually realized his improbable dream. A 1957 graduate of Occidental College, he was drafted, signed and subsequently cut by five different NFL and AFL teams: the Lions, Steelers, Giants, and Chargers. Ultimately, he was acquired by the Buffalo Bills. With the Bills, he’d be a two-time AFL champion. In fact, he was so popular that he won a seat in Congress representing Hamburg and parts of Buffalo, New York less than a year following his 1970 retirement from football.
He was handsome, energetic, and principled and, above all, a man of his word.
I met him in late May 1965 while representing the Batavia, New York State School for the Blind at a Lions Club fundraising weekend in Geneva, New York. He was one of the celebrity guests. “I’m not much of a football fan,” I told him, “What interests me about you is your conservatism.”
I spoke of my admiration for Richard Nixon, Barry Goldwater, and Republican conservatism. He told me to write him a letter care of the Bills and he’d put me in touch with Mr. Nixon. I didn’t really believe him. I thanked him, of course, but I was sure time would render his offer unlikely. So, I let it pass.
In mid January 1966, I was sitting in study hall during exam week confident that I could pass my next examination easily enough. One of the typewriters was free, so I sat down and wrote a letter to Jack Kemp care of the Bills reminding him of who I was and where I’d met him. I thought it was unlikely that I’d ever hear from him, but into the mail it went.
About six weeks later, I got a letter from Mr. Kemp. It came in a large envelope containing his photo with a football (of course) and it was autographed to me. In his letter he said he would soon be in California to campaign for Ronald Reagan with men whose names were then magic to me: Barry Goldwater, Everett Dirksen and Richard M. Nixon. “I’ll tell Mr. Nixon of your admiration for him,” he wrote.
In early June 1966, I learned that Jack Kemp had kept his word. I got a letter from Richard Nixon with a copy of his book “Six Crises,” which was autographed to me and a picture of Mr. Nixon that was also autographed. Thus my enduring gratitude to Jack Kemp.
Life goes on however. As Jack Kemp became established as a Republican Congressman, I increasingly grew restive about GOP principles. His position on public men such as Ronald Reagan and issues such as supply-side economics became increasingly alien to me. As far as I was concerned, he belatedly declared that he’d vote for the Articles of Impeachment against Mr. Nixon (August 5, 1974). My heart had already been broken by Richard Nixon, so it was hard for me to understand how Jack Kemp, a man of Christian and political principles, wasn’t already sufficiently disillusioned.
Still, I couldn’t entirely consider Congressman Kemp a nonentity. Clearly he was a conservative icon and his 1988 presidential candidacy was of some interest to me. It didn’t seem likely that he’d really be successful though. He was substantial enough, but he often talked too fast and his voice had a ragged tinge to it that I was sure grated on some folk’s nerves. (Actually, I empathized with him on that score as I live with a similar malady.) Still, those 1965/1966 memories were compelling.
Although energetic and passionate, Kemp was an intensely private person, reluctant to talk publicly about his personal experiences and emotional inclinations. Nevertheless, he possessed intellectual and spiritual depth and integrity. He cared intensely about minorities and the disabled. He sought to make it possible for tenants of public housing to purchase their homes while he was George H. W. Bush’s Secretary of Housing and Urban Development. Although thwarted in that effort, he was instrumental in the passage of the Affordable Housing Act which has annually made money available through block grants to low income home and business owners.
If there are some inclined to dismiss Jack Kemp as merely one of those whose name is on a list of ignominious losing vice presidential candidates (such as John Bricker, Bill Miller, Robert Dole, and Sarah Palin), they’d be well advised to recall that others on that list (Henry Cabot Lodge, Earl Warren, Edmund Muskie, and Franklin Roosevelt) were men of substantial achievement.
Sports heroes and politicians are inevitably judged by their records. Even though he was nominated for the second highest office in our land, Jack Kemp is likely to be remembered most for his success on the football field where he was truly one of the best during his career. However, the impact he made on the ideas of the nation and people he cared most about is intangible. Its substance is energy, commitment, belief, and loyalty. Even so, his legacy glimmers like a magnificent beacon shining above and beyond any achievement measurable in any record book. Goodness! That definition might be the description of a star!
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
Monday, May 4, 2009
SO! WHAT DO WE KNOW?
By Edwin Cooney
What our recent preoccupation with the significance of President Barack Obama’s first one hundred days probably best demonstrates is that our thirst for presidential scrutiny is as much about personal identification as it is about genuine historical analysis.
Since FDR’s time, except during periods of economic uncertainty, little attention has been paid to the new boss’s first ninety-nine White House morrows. However, these are uncertain economic times, to say the least, and everyone is watching closely (especially the president’s foes both political and personal).
A quick peak at a few post FDR presidencies might provide us a bit of perspective.
The first one hundred days of George W. Bush’s administration were almost anticlimactic after eight turbulent years of William Jefferson Clinton. True, there was still much gnashing of teeth over the “Supreme Court Presidency” of the shy and newly minted George Bush. Still, the economy, which had been in a tailspin during the last months of the Clinton presidency, was expected to be righted by the new administration’s tax cut engineered through a GOP Congress. This tax cut would use the Clinton “surpluses” (which the GOP doubted really existed) until it came time for them to share the money with their political friends. This reality notwithstanding, Sunday, April 29, 2001 arrived, smiled at President Bush for twenty-four hours, and receded into history leaving Americans still hopeful about their new leader.
Bill Clinton’s first one hundred days were pretty much a disaster. It seemed that things were falling apart rather than coming together almost as soon as he lowered his right hand after taking the presidential oath. By April 29, 1993, two Attorney General candidates (Zoë Baird and Kimba Wood) had been forced to withdraw for employing illegal aliens as domestics. The third appointee (Janet Reno) was already embroiled in the April 19,1993 Branch Davidian holocaust. Additionally, terrorists had partially destroyed the World Trade Center on February 26th raising questions of the president’s ability to keep us safe. Finally, as if all that wasn’t enough, Bill Clinton was unpopular by his hundredth day with both straight and gay citizens over his “don’t ask, don’t tell” compromise for gays in the military. Obviously, there would be no second term for William Jefferson Clinton — would there?
President Ronald Wilson Reagan was still riding high by his hundredth day in office, but his popularity had nearly cost him his life. He’d been elected, in part, to clean up Jimmy Carter’s economic mess which had been brought on by a combination of high interest rates, unemployment, and inflation, or “stagflation” as they called it. Budget cutting, tax cutting and income tax indexing were some of President Reagan’s proposed antidotes for the ailing 1981 economy. The proposed solutions hadn’t even been fully thrashed out when young John Hinckley, Jr. severely wounded the president, his press secretary and two Secret Service men outside a Washington, D.C. hotel on Monday, March 30, 1981. Even by President Reagan’s one hundredth day in office, it was apparent that America was enthralled by his decisiveness, ideological principles and personal magnetism and would likely re-elect him if the Secret Service could only protect him.
By April 29, 1977, Jimmy Carter was rapidly spending what political capital he possessed when he proposed a domestic war on energy waste. The president’s outsider status was not conducive for playing “inside the Beltway” politics. The steely and independent-minded Georgian was determined to reorganize the government, to see that those who lost their jobs due to the economic policies of Presidents Nixon and Ford were re-employed, and to realize sufficient monetary savings so as to end his first term with a balanced budget. The people wished him well and he wished himself well, too, but politicians (not all of them Republicans by any means) never would be so sure. President Carter’s political future was already cloudy by his hundredth day, even with all of the economic uncertainties, but there were all kinds of silver linings on the horizon.
Question: What do we know from this first 100 days about President Obama’s political future? Answer: Most of America likes him better than they did President Clinton, more than they did President Carter and perhaps, just perhaps, as much as they did President Reagan. Uncertain of our economic or physical security, America will likely understand if President Obama should decide to shift ideological course from time to time. However, it is likely that the President’s greatest asset is the good-natured, unflappable outlook and steadiness that the American people believe now resides at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C.
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
What our recent preoccupation with the significance of President Barack Obama’s first one hundred days probably best demonstrates is that our thirst for presidential scrutiny is as much about personal identification as it is about genuine historical analysis.
Since FDR’s time, except during periods of economic uncertainty, little attention has been paid to the new boss’s first ninety-nine White House morrows. However, these are uncertain economic times, to say the least, and everyone is watching closely (especially the president’s foes both political and personal).
A quick peak at a few post FDR presidencies might provide us a bit of perspective.
The first one hundred days of George W. Bush’s administration were almost anticlimactic after eight turbulent years of William Jefferson Clinton. True, there was still much gnashing of teeth over the “Supreme Court Presidency” of the shy and newly minted George Bush. Still, the economy, which had been in a tailspin during the last months of the Clinton presidency, was expected to be righted by the new administration’s tax cut engineered through a GOP Congress. This tax cut would use the Clinton “surpluses” (which the GOP doubted really existed) until it came time for them to share the money with their political friends. This reality notwithstanding, Sunday, April 29, 2001 arrived, smiled at President Bush for twenty-four hours, and receded into history leaving Americans still hopeful about their new leader.
Bill Clinton’s first one hundred days were pretty much a disaster. It seemed that things were falling apart rather than coming together almost as soon as he lowered his right hand after taking the presidential oath. By April 29, 1993, two Attorney General candidates (Zoë Baird and Kimba Wood) had been forced to withdraw for employing illegal aliens as domestics. The third appointee (Janet Reno) was already embroiled in the April 19,1993 Branch Davidian holocaust. Additionally, terrorists had partially destroyed the World Trade Center on February 26th raising questions of the president’s ability to keep us safe. Finally, as if all that wasn’t enough, Bill Clinton was unpopular by his hundredth day with both straight and gay citizens over his “don’t ask, don’t tell” compromise for gays in the military. Obviously, there would be no second term for William Jefferson Clinton — would there?
President Ronald Wilson Reagan was still riding high by his hundredth day in office, but his popularity had nearly cost him his life. He’d been elected, in part, to clean up Jimmy Carter’s economic mess which had been brought on by a combination of high interest rates, unemployment, and inflation, or “stagflation” as they called it. Budget cutting, tax cutting and income tax indexing were some of President Reagan’s proposed antidotes for the ailing 1981 economy. The proposed solutions hadn’t even been fully thrashed out when young John Hinckley, Jr. severely wounded the president, his press secretary and two Secret Service men outside a Washington, D.C. hotel on Monday, March 30, 1981. Even by President Reagan’s one hundredth day in office, it was apparent that America was enthralled by his decisiveness, ideological principles and personal magnetism and would likely re-elect him if the Secret Service could only protect him.
By April 29, 1977, Jimmy Carter was rapidly spending what political capital he possessed when he proposed a domestic war on energy waste. The president’s outsider status was not conducive for playing “inside the Beltway” politics. The steely and independent-minded Georgian was determined to reorganize the government, to see that those who lost their jobs due to the economic policies of Presidents Nixon and Ford were re-employed, and to realize sufficient monetary savings so as to end his first term with a balanced budget. The people wished him well and he wished himself well, too, but politicians (not all of them Republicans by any means) never would be so sure. President Carter’s political future was already cloudy by his hundredth day, even with all of the economic uncertainties, but there were all kinds of silver linings on the horizon.
Question: What do we know from this first 100 days about President Obama’s political future? Answer: Most of America likes him better than they did President Clinton, more than they did President Carter and perhaps, just perhaps, as much as they did President Reagan. Uncertain of our economic or physical security, America will likely understand if President Obama should decide to shift ideological course from time to time. However, it is likely that the President’s greatest asset is the good-natured, unflappable outlook and steadiness that the American people believe now resides at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C.
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
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